'!     ^LMAYER'S 
F  O  L  LY 


JOSEPH      CONRAD 


^%l^-ifi> 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
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ALMAYER'S  FOLLY 


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ALMAYER'S 
FOLLY 

A  STORY  OF  AN  EASTERN  RIVER  BY 

JOSEPH    CONRAD 


Qui  de  nous  n'a  eu  sa  ierre  promtsf,  son 
jour  d'extase  et  sa  fin  en  exU? — Ami  el. 


Garden  City         1917  New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 


t(, 


Copyright,  189^,  hy 

DOUBLEDAY,    PaGE   &   COMPANY 

/4ll  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


THE  MEMORY 
or 

T.  E 


ALMAYER'S  FOLLY 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"Kaspar!  Makan!" 

The  well-known  shrill  voice  startled  Almayer 
from  his  dream  of  splendid  future  into  the  unpleas- 
ant realities  of  the  present  hour.  An  unpleasant 
voice  too.  He  had  heard  it  for  many  years,  and  with 
every  year  he  liked  it  less.  No  matter;  there  would 
be  an  end  to  all  this  soon. 

He  shuffled  uneasily,  but  took  no  further  notice  of 
the  call.  Leaning  with  both  his  elbows  on  the  bal- 
ustrade of  the  verandah,  he  went  on  looking  fixedly 
at  the  great  river  that  flowed  —  indifferent  and 
hurried  —  before  his  eyes.  He  liked  to  look  at  it 
about  the  time  of  sunset;  perhaps  because  at  that 
time  the  sinking  sun  would  spread  a  glowing  gold 
tinge  on  the  waters  of  the  Pantai,  and  Almayer's 
thoughts  were  often  busy  with  gold;  gold  he  had 
failed  to  secure ;  gold  the  others  had  secured  —  dis- 
honestly, of  course  —  or  gold  he  meant  to  secure  yet, 
through  his  own  honest  exertions,  for  himself  and 
Nina.     He  absorbed  himself  in  his  dream  of  wealth 

B  I 


2  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

and  power  away  from  this  coast  where  he  had  dwelt 
for  so  many  years,  forgetting  the  bitterness  of  toil 
and  strife  in  the  vision  of  a  great  and  splendid 
reward.  They  would  live  in  Europe,  he  and  his 
daughter.  They  would  be  rich  and  respected.  No- 
body would  think  of  her  mixed  blood  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  great  beauty  and  of  his  immense  wealth. 
Witnessing  her  triumphs  he  would  grow  young 
again,  he  would  forget  the  twenty-five  years  of 
heart-breaking  struggle  on  this  coast  where  he  felt 
like  a  prisoner.  All  this  was  nearly  within  his 
reach.  Let  only  Dain  return !  And  return  soon  he 
must  —  in  his  own  interest,  for  his  own  share.  He 
was  now  more  than  a  week  late !  Perhaps  he  would 
return  to-night. 

Such  were  Almayer's  thoughts  as,  standing  on 
the  verandah  of  his  new  but  already  decaying  house 
—  that  last  failure  of  his  life  —  he  looked  on  the 
broad  river.  There  was  no  tinge  of  gold  on  it  this 
evening,  for  it  had  been  swollen  by  the  rains,  and 
rolled  an  angry  and  muddy  flood  under  his  inatten- 
tive eyes,  carrying  small  drift-wood  and  big  dead 
logs,  and  whole  uprooted  trees  with  branches  and 
foliage,  amongst  which  the  water  swirled  and  roared 
angrily. 

One  of  those  drifting  trees  grounded  on  the  shelv- 
ing shore,  just  by  the  house,  and  Almayer,  neglect- 
ing  his   dream,  watched   it  with  languid   interest. 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  8 

The  tree  swung  slowly  round,  amid  the  hiss  and 
foam  of  the  water,  and  soon  getting  free  of  the 
obstruction  began  to  move  down  stream  again,  rolling 
slowly  over,  raising  upwards  a  long,  denuded  branch, 
like  a  hand  lifted  in  mute  appeal  to  heaven  against 
the  river's  brutal  and  unnecessary  violence.  Al- 
raayer's  interest  in  the  fate  of  that  tree  increased 
rapidly.  He  leaned  over  to  see  if  it  would  clear  the 
low  point  below.  It  did ;  then  he  drew  back,  think- 
ing that  now  its  course  was  free  down  to  the  sea, 
and  he  envied  the  lot  of  that  inanimate  thing  now- 
growing  small  and  indistinct  in  the  deepening  dark- 
ness. As  he  lost  sight  of  it  altogether  he  began  to 
wonder  how  far  out  to  sea  it  would  drift.  Would 
the  current  carry  it  north  or  south?  South,  proba- 
bly, till  it  drifted  in  sight  of  Celebes,  as  far  as 
Macassar,  perhaps! 

Macassar!  Almayer's  quickened  fancy  distanced 
the  tree  on  its  imaginary  voyage,  but  his  memory 
lagging  behind  some  twenty  years  or  more  in  point 
of  time  saw  a  young  and  slim  Almayer,  clad  all  in 
white  and  modest-looking,  landing  from  the  Dutch 
mail-boat  on  the  dusty  jetty  of  Macassar,  coming  to 
woo  fortune  in  the  godowns  of  old  Hudig.  It  was 
an  important  epoch  in  his  life,  the  beginning  of  a 
new  existence  for  him.  His  father,  a  subordinate 
official  employed  in  the  Botanical  Gardens  of  Buiten- 
zorg,  was  no  doubt  delighted  to  place  his  son  in  such 


4  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

a  firm.  The  young  man  himself,  too,  was  nothing 
loth  to  leave  the  poisonous  shores  of  Java,  and  the 
meagre  comforts  of  the  parental  bungalow,  where 
the  father  grumbled  all  day  at  the  stupidity  of 
native  gardeners;  and  the  mother,  from  the  depths 
of  her  long  easy-chair,  bewailed  the  lost  glories  of 
Amsterdam,  where  she  had  been  brought  up,  and  of 
her  position  as  the  daughter  of  a  cigar  dealer  there. 

Almayer  had  left  his  home  with  a  light  heart  and 
a  lighter  pocket,  speaking  English  well,  and  strong 
in  arithmetic;  ready  to  conquer  the  world,  never 
doubting  that  he  would. 

After  those  twenty  years,  standing  in  the  close 
and  stifling  heat  of  a  Bornean  evening,  he  recalled 
with  pleasurable  regret  the  image  of  Hudig's  lofty 
and  cool  warehouses  with  their  long  and  straight 
avenues  of  gin  cases  and  bales  of  Manchester  goods; 
the  big  door  swinging  noiselessly ;  the  dim  light  of  the 
place,  so  delightful  after  the  glare  of  the  streets; 
the  little  railed-off  spaces  amongst  piles  of  merchan- 
dise where  the  Chinese  clerks,  neat,  cool,  and  sad- 
eyed,  wrote  rapidly  and  in  silence  amidst  the  din  of 
the  working  gangs  rolling  casks  or  shifting  cases  to 
a  muttered  song,  ending  with  a  desperate  yell.  At 
the  upper  end,  facing  the  great  door,  there  was  a 
larger  space  railed  off,  well  lighted ;  there  the  noise 
was  subdued  by  distance,  and  above  it  rose  the  soft 
and  continuous  clink  of  silver  guilders  which  other 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  5 

discreet  Chinamen  were  counting  and  piling  up 
under  the  supervision  of  Mr.  Vinck,  the  cashier,  the 
genius  presiding  in  the  place  —  the  right  hand  of 
the  Master. 

In  that  clear  space  Almayer  worked  at  his  table 
not  far  from  a  little  green  painted  door,  by  which 
always  stood  a  Malay  in  a  red  sash  and  turban,  and 
whose  hand,  holding  a  small  string  dangling  from 
above,  moved  up  and  down  with  the  regularity  of  a 
machine.  The  string  worked  a  punkah  on  the  other 
side  of  the  green  door,  where  the  so-called  private 
office  was,  and  where  old  Hudig  —  the  Master  —  sat 
enthroned,  holding  noisy  receptions.  Sometimes 
the  little  door  would  fly  open,  disclosing  to  the 
outer  world,  through  the  bluish  haze  of  tobacco 
smoke,  a  long  table  loaded  with  bottles  of  various 
shapes  and  tall  water-pitchers,  rattan  easy-chairs 
occupied  by  noisy  men  in  sprawling  attitudes,  while 
the  Master  would  put  his  head  through,  and,  holding 
by  the  handle,  would  grunt  confidentially  to  Vinck ; 
perhaps  send  an  order  thundering  down  the  ware- 
house, or  spy  a  hesitating  stranger  and  greet  him 
with  a  friendly  roar,  "  Welgome,  Gapitan !  ver'  you 
gome  vrom  ?  Bali,  eh  ?  Got  bonies  ?  I  vant  bonies ! 
Vant  all  you  got;  ha!  ha!  ha!  Gome  in!"  Then 
the  stranger  was  dragged  in,  in  a  tempest  of  yells, 
the  door  was  shut,  and  the  usual  noises  refilled  the 
place;  the  song  of  the  workmen,  the  rumble  of  bar- 


6  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

rels,  the  scratch  of  rapid  pens ;  while  above  all  rose 
the  musical  chink  of  broad  silver  pieces  streaming 
ceaselessly  through  the  yellow  fingers  of  the  atten- 
tive Chinamen. 

At  that  time  Macassar  was  teeming  with  life  and 
commerce.  It  was  the  point  in  the  islands  where 
tended  all  those  bold  spirits  who,  fitting  out  schoon- 
ers on  the  Australian  coast,  invaded  the  Malay 
Archipelago  in  search  of  money  and  adventure. 
Bold,  reckless,  keen  in  business,  not  disinclined  for 
a  brush  with  the  pirates  that  were  to  be  found  on 
many  a  coast  as  yet,  making  money  fast,  they  used 
to  have  a  general  "rendezvous  "  in  the  bay  for  pur- 
poses of  trade  and  dissipation.  The  Dutch  mer- 
chants called  those  men  English  pedlars ;  some  of 
them  were  undoubtedly  gentlemen  for  whom  that 
kind  of  life  had  a  charm;  most  were  seamen;  the 
acknowledged  king  of  them  all  was  Tom  Lingard, 
he  whom  the  Malays,  honest  or  dishonest,  quiet 
fishermen  or  desperate  cut-throats,  recognised  as 
"  the  Rajah-Laut "  —  the  King  of  the  Sea. 

Almayer  had  heard  of  him  before  he  had  been 
three  days  in  Macassar,  had  heard  the  stories  of  his 
smart  business  transactions,  his  loves,  and  also  of 
his  desperate  fights  with  the  Sulu  pirates,  together 
with  the  romantic  tale  of  some  child  —  a  girl 
—  found  in  a  piratical  prau  by  the  victorious  Lin- 
gard, when,  after   a   long  contest,  he   boarded  the 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  7 

craft,  driving  the  crew  overboard.  This  girl,  it  was 
generally  known,  Lingard  had  adopted,  was  having 
her  educated  in  some  convent  in  Java,  and  spoke  of 
her  as  "my  daughter."  He  had  sworn  a  mighty 
oath  to  marry  her  to  a  white  man  before  he  went 
home  and  to  leave  her  all  his  money.  "  And  Cap- 
tain Lingard  has  lots  of  money,"  would  say  Mr. 
Vinck  solemnly,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  "  lots  of 
money;  more  than  Hudig!"  And  after  a  pause  — 
just  to  let  his  hearers  recover  from  their  astonish- 
ment at  such  an  incredible  assertion  —  he  would  add 
in  an  explanatory  whisper,  "  You  know,  he  has  dis- 
covered a  river." 

That  was  it!  He  had  discovered  a  river!  That 
was  the  fact  placing  old  Lingard  so  much  above  the 
common  crowd  of  sea-going  adventurers  Avho  traded 
with  Hudig  in  the  daytime  and  drank  champagne, 
gambled,  sang  noisy  songs,  and  made  love  to  half- 
caste  girls  under  the  broad  verandah  of  the  Sunda 
Hotel  at  night.  Into  that  river,  whose  entrances 
himself  only  knew,  Lingard  used  to  take  his  assorted 
cargo  of  Manchester  goods,  brass  gongs,  rifles,  and 
gunpowder.  His  brig  Flashy  which  he  commanded 
himself,  would  on  those  occasions  disappear  quietly 
during  the  night  from  the  roadstead  while  his  com- 
panions were  sleej)ing  off  the  effects  of  the  midnight 
carouse,  Lingard  seeing  them  drunk  under  the  table 
before  going  on   board,  himself   unaffected   by  any 


8  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

amount  of  liquor.  Many  tried  to  follow  him  and 
jEind  that  land  of  plenty  for  gutta-percha  and  rattans, 
pearl  shells  and  birds'  nests,  wax  and  gum-dammar, 
but  the  little  Flash  could  outsail  every  craft  in  those 
seas.  A  few  of  them  came  to  grief  on  hidden  sand- 
banks and  coral  reefs,  losing  their  all  and  barely 
escaping  with  life  from  the  cruel  grip  of  this  sunny 
and  smiling  sea;  others  got  discouraged;  and  for 
many  years  the  green  and  peaceful-looking  islands 
guarding  the  entrances  to  the  promised  land  kept 
their  secret  with  all  the  merciless  serenity  of  tropi- 
cal nature.  And  so  Lingard  came  and  went  on  his 
secret  or  open  expeditions,  becoming  a  hero  in 
Almayer's  eyes  by  the  boldness  and  enormous  profits 
of  his  ventures,  seeming  to  Almayer  a  very  great 
man  indeed  as  he  saw  him  marching  up  the  ware- 
house, grunting  a  "how  are  you?"  to  Vinck,  or 
greeting  Hudig,  the  Master,  with  a  boisterous 
"Hallo,  old  pirate!  Alive  yet?"  as  a  preliminary 
to  transacting  business  behind  the  little  green  door. 
Often  of  an  evening,  in  the  silence  of  the  then  de- 
serted warehouse,  Almayer  putting  away  his  papers 
before  driving  home  with  Mr.  Vinck,  in  whose 
household  he  lived,  would  pause  listening  to  the 
noise  of  a  hot  discussion  in  the  private  ofiSce,  would 
hear  the  deep  and  monotonous  growl  of  the  Master, 
and  the  roared-out  interruptions  of  Lingard  —  two 
mastiffs    fighting   over   a   marrowy   bone.       But  to 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  ^ 

Almayer's  ears  it  sounded  like  a  quarrel  of  Titana 
—  a  battle  of  the  gods. 

After  a  year  or  so  Lingard,  having  been  brought 
often  in  contact  with  Almayer  in  the  course  of  busi- 
ness, took  a  sudden  and,  to  the  onlookers,  a  rather 
inexplicable  fancy  to  the  young  man.  He  sang  his 
praises,  late  at  night,  over  a  convivial  glass,  to  his 
cronies  in  the  Sunda  Hotel,  and  one  fine  morning 
electrified  Vinck  by  declaring  that  he  must  have 
"  that  young  fellow  for  a  supercargo.  Kind  of  cap- 
tain's clerk.  Do  all  my  quill-di'iving  for  me." 
Hudig  consented.  Almayer,  with  youth's  natural 
craving  for  change,  was  nothing  loth,  and  packing 
lis  few  belongings,  started  in  the  Flash  on  one  of 
those  long  cruises  when  the  old  seaman  was  wont  to 
visit  almost  every  island  in  the  archipelago.  Months 
slipped  by,  and  Lingard's  friendship  seemed  to  in- 
crease. Often  pacing  the  deck  with  Almayer,  when 
the  faint  night  breeze,  heavy  with  aromatic  exhala- 
tions of  the  islands,  shoved  the  brig  gently  along 
under  the  peaceful  and  sparkling  sky,  did  the  old 
seaman  open  his  heart  to  his  entranced  listener.  He 
spoke  of  his  past  life,  of  escaped  dangers,  of  big 
profits  in  his  trade,  of  new  combinations  that  were 
in  the  future  to  bring  profits  bigger  still.  Often  he 
had  mentioned  his  daughter,  the  girl  found  in  the 
pirate  prau,  speaking  of  her  with  a  strange  assump- 
tion of  fatherly  tenderness.     "  She  must  be  a  big  girl 


10  ALMAVKR'S    KOLLY. 

now,"  he  used  to  say.  "It's  nigh  unto  four  years 
since  I  have  seen  her!  Damme,  Almayer,  if  I  don'l 
think  we  will  run  into  Sourabaya  this  trip."  And 
after  such  a  declaration  he  always  dived  into  his 
cabin  muttering  to  himself,  "Something  must  be 
done  —  must  be  done."  More  than  once  he  would 
astonish  Almayer  by  walking  up  to  him  rapidly, 
clearing  his  throat  with  a  powerful  "Hem!"  as  if 
he  was  going  to  say  something,  and  then  turning 
abruptly  away  to  lean  over  the  bulwarks  in  silence, 
and  watch,  motionless,  for  hours,  the  gleam  and 
sparkle  of  the  phosphorescent  sea  along  the  ship's 
side.  It  was  the  night  before  arriving  in  Sourabaya 
when  one  of  those  attempts  at  confidential  commu- 
nication succeeded.  After  clearing  his  throat  he 
spoke.  He  spoke  to  some  purpose.  He  wanted 
Almayer  to  marry  his  adopted  daughter.  "And 
don't  you  kick  because  you're  white !  "  he  shouted, 
suddenly,  not  giving  the  surprised  young  man  the 
time  to  say  a  word.  "  None  of  that  with  me !  No- 
body will  see  the  colour  of  your  wife's  skin.  The 
dollars  are  too  thick  for  that,  I  tell  you !  And  mind 
you,  they  will  be  thicker  yet  before  I  die.  There 
will  be  millions,  Kaspar!  Millions,  I  say!  And 
all  for  her  —  and  for  you,  if  you  do  what  you  are 
told." 

Startled    by   the    unexpected    proposal,    Almayer 
hesitated,  and   remained  silent   for  a  minute.     He 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  11 

was  gifted  with  a  strong  and  active  imagination, 
and  in  that  short  space  of  time  Vie  saw,  as  in  a  flash 
of  dazzling  light,  great  piles  of  shining  guilders, 
and  realised  all  the  possibilities  of  an  opulent  exist- 
ence. The  consideration,  the  indolent  ease  of  life 
—  for  which  he  felt  himself  so  well  fitted  —  his 
ships,  his  warehouses,  his  merchandise  (old  Lingard 
would  not  live  for  ever),  and  crowning  all,  in  the 
far  future  gleamed  like  a  fairy  palace  the  big  man- 
sion in  Amsterdam,  that  earthly  paradise  of  his 
dreams,  where,  made  king  amongst  men  by  old  Lin- 
gard's  money,  he  would  pass  the  evening  of  his  days 
in  inexpressible  splendour.  As  to  the  other  side  of 
the  picture  —  the  companionship  for  life  of  a  Malay 
girl,  that  legacy  of  a  boatful  of  pirates — there  was  only 
within  him  a  confused  consciousness  of  shame  that  he, 

a  white  man Still,  a  convent  education  of  four 

years !  —  and  then  she  may  mercifully  die.  He  was 
always  lucky,  and  money  is  powerful!  Go  through 
it.  Why  not?  He  had  a  vague  idea  of  shutting 
her  up  somewhere,  anywhere,  out  of  his  gorgeous 
future.  Easy  enough  to  dispose  of  a  Malay  woman, 
a  slave,  after  all,  to  his  Eastern  mind,  convent  or 
no  convent,  ceremony  or  no  ceremony. 

He  lifted  his  head  and  confronted  the  anxious 
yet  irate  seaman. 

"I  —  of  course  —  anything  you  wish,  Captain 
Lingard." 


12  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"Call  me  father,  my  boy.  She  does,"  said  the 
mollified  old  adventurer.  "Damme,  though,  if  I 
didn't  think  you  were  going  to  refuse.  Mind  you, 
Kaspar,  I  always  get  my  way,  so  it  would  have  been 
no  use.     But  you  are  no  fool." 

He  remembered  well  that  time  —  the  look,  the 
accent,  the  words,  the  effect  they  produced  on  him, 
his  very  surroundings.  He  remembered  the  narrow 
and  slanting  deck  of  the  brig,  the  silent  and  sleep- 
ing coast,  the  smooth  and  black  surface  of  the  sea, 
with  a  great  bar  of  gold  laid  on  it  by  the  rising 
moon.  He  remembered  it  all,  and  he  remembered 
his  feelings  of  mad  exultation  at  the  thought  of 
that  fortune  thrown  into  his  hands.  He  was  no  fool 
then,  and  he  was  no  fool  now.  Circumstances  had 
been  against  him;  the  fortune  was  gone,  but  hope 
remained. 

He  shivered  in  the  night  air,  and  suddenly  became 
aware  of  the  intense  darkness  which,  on  the  sun's 
departure,  had  closed  in  upon  the  river,  blotting  out 
the  outlines  of  the  opposite  shore.  Only  the  fire  of 
dry  branches  lit  outside  the  stockade  of  the  Rajah's 
compound  called  fitfully  into  view  the  ragged  trunks 
of  the  surrounding  trees,  putting  a  stain  of  glowing 
red  half-way  across  the  river,  where  the  drifting  logs 
were  hurrying  towards  the  sea  through  the  impene- 
trable gloom.  He  had  a  hazy  recollection  of  having 
been   called  some  time   during  the  evening  by  his 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  13 

wife.  To  his  dinner  probably.  But  a  man  busy 
contemplating  the  wreckage  of  his  past  in  the  dawn 
of  new  hopes  cannot  be  hungry  whenever  his  rice  is 
ready.  Time  he  went  home,  though ;  it  was  getting 
late. 

He  stepped  cautiously  on  the  loose  planks  towards 
the  ladder.  A  lizard,  disturbed  by  the  noise, 
emitted  a  plaintive  note  and  scurried  through  the 
long  grass  growing  on  the  bank.  Almayer  de- 
scended the  ladder  carefully,  now  thoroughly  re- 
called to  the  realities  of  life  by  the  care  necessary 
to  prevent  a  fall  on  the  uneven  ground,  where  the 
stones,  decaying  planks,  and  half-sawn  beams  were 
piled  up  in  inextricable  confusion.  As  he  turned 
towards  the  house  where  he  lived —  "my  old  house  " 
he  called  it  —  his  ear  detected  the  splash  of  paddles 
away  in  the  darkness  of  the  river.  He  stood  still  in 
the  path,  attentive  and  surprised  at  anybody  being 
on  the  river  at  this  late  hour  during  such  a  heavy 
freshet.  Now  he  could  hear  the  paddles  distinctly, 
and  even  a  rapidly  exchanged  word  in  low  tones, 
the  heavy  breathing  of  men  fighting  with  the  cur- 
rent, and  hugging  the  bank  on  which  he  stood. 
Quite  close,  too,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  distinguish 
anything  under  the  overhanging  bushes. 

"Arabs,  no  doubt,"  muttered  Almayer  to  himself, 
peering  into  the  solid  blackness.  "  What  are  they  up 
to  now?     Some  of  Abdulla's  business;  curse  himl  " 


H  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

The  boat  was  very  close  now. 

"Oh,  ya!     Man !"  hailed  Almayer. 

The  sound  of  voices  ceased,  but  the  paddles 
worked  as  furiously  as  before.  Then  the  bush  in 
front  of  Almayer  shook,  and  the  sharp  sound  of  the 
paddles  falling  into  the  canoe  rang  in  the  quiet 
night.  They  were  holding  on  to  the  bush  now ;  but 
Almayer  could  hardly  make  out  an  indistinct  dark 
shape  of  a  man's  head  and  shoulders  above  the  bank. 

"You  AbduUa?"  said  Almayer,  doubtfully. 

A  grave  voice  answered  — 

"Tuan  Almayer  is  speaking  to  a  friend.  There 
is  no  Arab  here." 

Almayer's  heart  gave  a  great  leap. 

"Dain!"  he  exclaimed.  "At  last!  at  last!  I 
have  been  waiting  for  you  every  day  and  every  night. 
I  have  nearly  given  you  up." 

"Nothing  could  have  stopped  me  from  coming 
back  here,"  said  the  other,  almost  violently.  "Not 
even  death,"  he  whispered  to  himself. 

"This  is  a  friend's  talk,  and  is  very  good, "  said 
Almayer,  heartily.  "  But  you  are  too  far  here. 
Drop  down  to  the  jetty,  and  let  your  men  cook  their 
rice  in  my  campong  Avhile  we  talk  in  the  house." 

There  was  no  answer  to  that  invitation. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Almayer,  uneasily.  "There 
is  nothing  wrong  with  the  brig,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  The  brig  is  where  no  Orang  Blanda  can  lay  his 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  15 

hands  on  her,"  said  Dain,  with  a  gloomy  tone  in  his 
voice,  which  Almayer,  in  his  elation,  failed  to  notice. 

"  Right,"  he  said.  "  But  where  are  all  your  men  ? 
There  are  only  two  with  you." 

"Listen,  Tuan  Almaj-er,"  said  Dain.  "To- 
morrow's sun  shall  see  me  in  your  house,  and  then 
we  will  talk.     Now  I  must  go  to  the  Rajah." 

"To  the  Rajah!  Why?  What  do  you  want  with 
Lakamba  ?  " 

"Tuan,  to-morrow  we  talk  like  friends.  I  must 
see  Lakamba  to-night." 

"Dain,  you  are  not  going  to  abandon  me  now, 
when  all  is  ready?"  asked  Almayer,  in  a  pleading 
voice. 

"Have  I  not  returned?  But  I  must  see  Lakamba 
first,  for  your  good  and  mine." 

The  shadowy  head  disappeared  abruptly.  The 
bush,  released  from  the  grasp  of  the  bowman,  sprung 
back  with  a  swish,  scattering  a  shower  of  muddy 
water  over  Almayer,  as  he  bent  forward,  trying  to 
see. 

In  a  little  while  the  canoe  shot  into  the  streak  of 
light  that  streamed  on  the  river  from  the  big  fire  on 
the  opposite  shore,  disclosing  the  outline  of  two 
men  bending  to  their  work,  and  a  third  figure  in  the 
stern  flourishing  the  steering  paddle,  his  head  cov- 
ered with  an  enormous  round  hat,  like  a  fantasti- 
cally exaggerated  mushroom. 


16  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Almayer  watched  the  canoe  till  it  passed  out  of 
the  line  of  light.  Shortly  after,  the  murmur  of 
many  voices  reached  him  across  the  water.  He 
could  see  the  torches  being  snatched  out  of  the  burn- 
ing pile,  and  rendering  visible  for  a  moment  the 
gate  in  the  stockade,  round  which  they  crowded. 
Then  they  went  in,  apparently.  The  torches  dis- 
appeared, and  the  scattered  fire  sent  out  only  a  dim 
and  fitful  glare. 

Almayer  stepped  homewards  with  long  strides  and 
mind  uneasy.  Surely  Dain  was  not  thinking  of 
playing  him  false.  It  was  absurd.  Dain  and 
Lakamba  were  both  too  much  interested  in  the 
success  of  his  scheme.  Trusting  to  Malays  was 
poor  work ;  but  then,  even  Malays  have  some  sense 
and  understand  their  own  interest.  All  would  be 
well  —  must  be  well.  At  this  point  in  his  medita- 
tion he  found  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  lead- 
ing to  the  verandah  of  his  home.  From  the  low 
point  of  land  where  he  stood  he  could  see  both 
branches  of  the  river.  The  main  branch  of  the 
Pantai  was  lost  in  complete  darkness,  for  the  fire  at 
the  Rajah's  had  gone  out  altogether;  but  up  the 
Sambir  reach  his  eye  could  follow  the  long  line  of 
Malay  houses  crowding  the  bank,  with  here  and 
there  a  dim  light  twinkling  through  bamboo  walls, 
or  a  smoky  torch  burning  on  the  platforms  built  out 
over   the   river.     Further   away,    where    the    island 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  17 

ended  in  a  low  cliff,  rose  a  dark  mass  of  buildings 
towering  above  the  Malay  structures.  Founded 
solidly  on  a  firm  ground  with  plenty  of  space, 
starred  by  many  lights  burning  strong  and  white, 
with  a  suggestion  of  paraffin  and  lamp-glasses,  stood 
the  house  and  the  godowns  of  Abdulla  bin  Selim, 
the  great  trader  of  Sambir.  To  Almayer  the 
sight  was  very  distasteful,  and  he  shook  his  fist 
towards  the  buildings  that  in  their  evident  pros- 
perity looked  to  him  cold  and  insolent,  and  contempt- 
uous of  his  own  fallen  fortunes. 

He  mounted  the  steps  of  his  house  slowly. 

In  the  middle  of  the  verandah  there  was  a  round 
table.  On  it  a  paraffin  lamp  without  a  globe  shed 
a  hard  glare  on  the  three  inner  sides.  The  fourth 
side  was  open,  and  faced  the  river.  Between  the 
rough  supports  of  the  high-pitched  roof  hung  torn 
rattan  screens.  There  was  no  ceiling,  and  the  harsh 
brilliance  of  the  lamp  was  toned  above  into  a  soft 
half-light  that  lost  itself  in  the  obscurity  amongst 
the  rafters.  The  front  wall  was  cut  in  two  by  the 
doorway  of  a  central  passage  closed  by  a  red  cur- 
tain. The  women's  room  opened  into  that  passage, 
which  led  to  the  back  courtyard  and  to  the  cooking 
shed.  In  one  of  the  side  walls  there  was  a  doorway. 
Half  obliterated  words  —  "  Office :  Lingard  and  Co." 
—  were  still  legible  on  the  dusty  door,  which  looked 
as  if  it  had  not  been  opened  for  a  very  long  time. 


18  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Close  to  the  other  side  wall  stood  a  bent-wood 
rocking-chair,  and  by  the  table  and  about  the  veran- 
dah four  wooden  armchairs  straggled  forlornly,  as 
if  ashamed  of  their  shabby  surroundings.  A  heap 
of  common  mats  lay  in  one  corner,  with  an  old 
hammock  slung  diagonally  above.  In  the  other 
corner,  his  head  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  red  calico, 
huddled  into  a  shapeless  heap,  slept  a  Malay,  one  of 
Almayer's  domestic  slaves  —  "my  own  people,"  he 
used  to  call  them.  A  numerous  and  rej)resentative 
assembly  of  moths  were  holding  high  revels  round 
the  lamp,  to  the  spirited  music  of  swarming  mos- 
quitoes. Under  the  palm-leaf  thatch  lizards  raced 
on  the  beams,  calling  softly.  A  monkey,  chained 
to  one  of  the  verandah  supports  —  retired  for  the 
night  under  the  eaves  —  peered  and  grinned  at 
Almayer,  as  it  swung  to  one  of  the  bamboo  roof- 
sticks  and  caused  a  shower  of  dust  and  bits  of  dried 
leaves  to  settle  on  the  shabby  table.  The  floor  was 
uneven,  with  many  withered  plants  and  dried  earth 
scattered  about.  A  general  air  of  squalid  neglect 
pervaded  the  place.  Great  red  stains  on  the  floor 
and  walls  testified  to  frequent  and  indiscriminate 
betel-nut  chewing.  The  light  breeze  from  the  river 
swayed  gently  the  tattered  blinds,  sending  from  the 
woods  opposite  a  faint  and  sickly  perfume  as  of 
decaying  flowers. 

Under  Almayer's  heavy  tread  the  boards  of  the 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  19 

verandah  creaked  loudly.  The  sleeper  in  the  corner 
moved  uneasily,  muttering  indistinct  words.  There 
was  a  slight  rustle  behind  the  curtained  doorway, 
and  a  soft  voice  asked  in  Malay,  "Is  it  you,  father?" 

"  Yes,  Nina.  I  am  hungry.  Is  everybody  asleep 
in  this  house?" 

Almayer  spoke  jovially  and  dropped  with  a  con- 
tented sigh  into  the  armchair  nearest  to  the  table. 
Nina  Almayer  came  through  the  curtained  doorway, 
followed  by  an  old  Malay  woman,  who  busied  her- 
self in  setting  upon  the  table  a  plateful  of  rice  and 
fish,  a  jar  of  water,  and  a  bottle  half  full  of  genever. 
After  carefully  placing  before  her  master  a  cracked 
glass  tumbler  and  a  tin  spoon,  she  went  away  noise- 
lessly. Nina  stood  by  the  table,  one  hand  lightly 
resting  on  its  edge,  the  other  hanging  listlessly  by 
her  side.  Her  face,  turned  towards  the  outer  dark- 
ness, thi-ough  which  her  dreamy  eyes  seemed  to  see 
some  entrancing  picture,  wore  a  look  of  impatient 
expectancy.  She  was  tall  for  a  half-caste,  with  the 
correct  profile  of  the  father,  modified  and  strength- 
ened by  the  squareness  of  the  lower  part  of  the  face 
inherited  from  her  maternal  ancestors  —  the  Sulu 
pirates.  Her  firm  mouth,  with  the  lips  slightly 
parted  and  disclosing  a  gleam  of  white  teeth,  put  a 
vague  suggestion  of  ferocity  into  the  impatient 
expression  of  her  features.  And  yet  her  dark  and 
perfect  eyes  had  all  the  tender  softness  of  expression 


20  ALMAYER'S    FOLIA'. 

common  to  Malay  women,  but  with  a  gleam  of 
superior  intelligence;  they  looked  gravely,  wide 
open  and  steady,  as  if  facing  something  invisible  to 
all  other  eyes,  while  she  stood  there  all  in  white, 
straight,  flexible,  graceful,  unconscious  of  herself, 
her  low  but  broad  forehead  crowned  with  a  shining 
mass  of  black,  long  hair  falling  in  heavy  tresses 
over  her  shoulders,  making  her  pale  olive  complex- 
ion look  paler  still  by  the  contrast  of  its  coal-black 
hue. 

Almayer  attacked  his  rice  greedily,  but  after  a  few 
mouthfuls  he  paused,  spoon  in  hand,  and  looked  at 
his  daughter  curiously. 

"  Did  you  hear  a  boat  pass  about  half  an  hour  ago, 
Nina?"  he  asked. 

The  girl  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  and  moving 
away  from  the  light  stood  with  her  back  to  the  table. 

"No,"  she  said  slowly. 

" There  was  a  boat.  At  last!  Dain  himself ;  and 
he  went  on  to  Lakamba,  I  know  it,  for  he  told  me 
so.  I  spoke  to  him,  but  he  would  not  come  here 
to-night.     Will  come  to-morrow,  he  said." 

He  swallowed  another  spoonful,  then  said  — 

"I  am  almost  happy  to-night,  Nina.  I  can  see 
the  end  of  a  long  road,  and  it  leads  us  away  from 
this  miserable  swamp.  We  shall  soon  get  away 
from  here,  I  and  you,  my  dear  little  girl,  and 
then " 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  21 

He  rose  from  the  table  and  stood  looking  fixedly 
before  him  as  if  contemplating  some  enchanting 
vision. 

"And  then,"  he  went  on,  "we  shall  be  happy,  you 
and  I.  Live  rich  and  respected  far  from  here,  and 
forget  this  life,  and  all  this  struggle,  and  all  this 
misery!  " 

He  approached  his  daughter  and  passed  his  hand 
caressingly  over  her  hair. 

"It  is  bad  to  have  to  trust  a  Malay,"  he  said, 
"  but  I  must  own  that  this  Dain  is  a  perfect  gentle- 
man —  a  perfect  gentleman,"  he  repeated. 

"Did  you  ask  him  to  come  here,  father?"  in- 
quired Nina,  not  looking  at  him. 

"Well,  of  course.  We  shall  start  on  the  day 
after  to-morrow,"  said  Almayer,  joyously.  "We 
must  not  lose  any  time.     Are  you  glad,  little  girl?" 

She  was  nearly  as  tall  as  himself,  but  he  liked  to 
recall  the  time  when  she  was  little  and  they  were 
all  in  all  to  each  other. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said,  very  low. 

"Of  course,"  said  Almayer,  vivaciously,  "you 
cannot  imagine  what  is  before  you.  I  myself  have 
not  been  to  Europe,  but  I  have  heard  my  mother 
talk  so  often  that  I  seem  to  know  all  about  it.  We 
shall  live  a  —  a  glorious  life.     You  shall  see." 

Again  he  stood  silent  by  his  daughter's  side  look- 
ing at  that  enchanting  vision.      After  a  while   he 


22  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

shook  his  clenched  hand  towards  the  sleeping  settle- 
ment. 

"Ah!  my  friend  Abdulla,"  he  cried,  "we  shall 
see  who  will  have  the  best  of  it  after  all  these 
years ! " 

He  looked  up  the  river  and  remarked  calmly: 

"Another  thunder-storm.  Well!  No  thunder 
will  keep  me  awake  to-night,  I  know  !  Good- 
night, little  girl,"  he  whispered,  tenderly  kissing 
her  cheek.  "You  do  not  seem  to  be  very  happy 
to-night,  but  to-morrow  you  will  show  a  brighter 
face.     Eh?" 

Nina  had  listened  to  her  father  with  her  face 
unmoved,  with  her  half-closed  eyes  still  gazing  into 
the  night  now  made  more  intense  by  a  heavy 
thunder-cloud  that  had  crept  down  from  the  hills, 
blotting  out  the  stars,  merging  sky,  forest,  and  river 
into  one  mass  of  almost  palpable  blackness.  The 
faint  breeze  had  died  out,  but  the  distant  rumble  of 
thunder  and  pale  flashes  of  lightning  gave  warning 
of  the  approaching  storm.  With  a  sigh  the  girl 
turned  towards  the  table. 

Almayer  was  in  his  hammock  now,  already  half 
asleep. 

"Take  the  lamp,  Nina,"  he  muttered  drowsily. 
"This  place  is  full  of  mosquitoes.  Go  to  sleep, 
daughter." 

But  Nina  put  the  lamp  out  and  turned  back  again 


AT.MAYER'S    FOLIA'.  23 

towards  the  balustrade  of  the  verandah,  standing 
with  her  arm  round  the  wooden  support  and  looking 
eagerly  towards  the  Pantai  reach.  And  motionless 
there  in  the  still  and  oppressing  calm  of  the  tropical 
night  she  could  see  at  each  flash  of  lightning  the 
forest  lining  both  banks  up  the  river  bending  before 
the  furious  blast  of  the  coming  tempest;  she  saw 
the  upper  reach  of  the  river  whipped  into  white  foam 
by  the  wind,  and  the  black  clouds  torn  into  fantas- 
tic shapes  trailing  low  over  the  swaying  trees. 
Round  her  all  was  as  yet  stillness  and  peace,  but  she 
could  hear  afar  off  the  roar  of  the  wind,  the  hiss  of 
heavy  rain,  the  wash  of  the  waves  on  the  tormented 
river.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer,  with  loud  thunder- 
claps and  long  flashes  of  vivid  lightning,  followed 
by  short  periods  of  appalling  blackness.  When  the 
storm  reached  the  low  point  dividing  the  river,  the 
house  shook  in  the  wind,  and  the  rain  pattered  loudly 
on  the  palm-leaf  roof,  the  thunder  spoke  in  one 
prolonged  roll,  and  the  incessant  lightning  disclosed 
a  turmoil  of  leaping  water,  driving  logs,  and  the  big 
trees  bending  before  a  brutal  and  merciless  force. 

Undisturbed  by  the  nightly  event  of  the  rainy 
monsoons  the  father  slept  quietly,  oblivious  alike 
of  his  hopes,  his  misfortunes,  his  friends,  and  his 
enemies ;  and  the  daughter  stood  motionless,  at  each 
flash  of  lightning  eagerly  scanning  the  broad  rivei 
with  a  steady  and  anxious  gaze. 


CHAPTER   II. 

When,  in  compliance  with  Lingard's  abrupt 
demand,  Almayer  consented  to  wed  the  Malay 
girl,  no  one  knew  that  on  the  day  when  the  inter- 
esting young  convert  had  lost  all  her  natural  rela- 
tions and  found  a  white  father,  she  had  been 
fighting  desperately  like  the  rest  of  them  on  board 
the  prau,  and  was  only  prevented  from  leaping 
overboard,  like  the  few  other  survivors,  by  a 
severe  wound  in  the  leg.  There,  on  the  fore-deck 
of  the  prau,  old  Lingard  found  her  under  a  heap 
of  dead  and  dying  pirates,  and  had  her  carried  on 
the  poop  of  the  Flash  before  the  Malay  craft  was 
set  on  fire  and  sent  adrift.  She  was  conscious, 
and  in  the  great  peace  and  stillness  of  the  tropi- 
cal evening  succeeding  the  turmoil  of  the  battle, 
she  watched  all  she  held  dear  on  earth  after  her 
own  savage  manner,  drift  away  into  the  gloom  in 
a  great  roar  of  flame  and  smoke.  She  lay  there 
unheeding  the  careful  hands  attending  to  her 
wound,  silent  and  absorbed  in  gazing  at  the 
funeral  pile  of  those  brave  men  she  had  so  much 

2A 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  25 

admired  and  so  well  helped  in  their  contest  with 
the  redoubtable  ''Rajah-Laut." 

The  light  night  breeze  fanned  the  brig  gently  to 
the  southward,  and  the  great  blaze  of  light  got 
smaller  and  smaller  till  it  twinkled  only  on  the  hori- 
zon like  a  setting  star.  It  set :  the  heavy  canopy 
of  smoke  reflected  the  glare  of  hidden  flames  for  a 
short  time  and  then  disappeared  also. 

She  realised  that  with  this  vanishing  gleam  her 
old  life  departed  too.  Thenceforth  there  was  sla- 
very in  the  far  countries,  amongst  strangers,  in 
unknown  and  perhaps  terrible  surroundings.  Being 
fourteen  years  old,  she  realised  her  position  and 
came  to  that  conclusion,  the  only  one  possible  to 
a  Malay  girl,  soon  ripened  under  a  tropical  sun, 
and  not  unaware  of  her  personal  charms,  of  which 
she  heard  many  a  young  brave  warrior  of  her 
father's  crew  express  an  appreciative  admiration. 
There  was  in  her  the  dread  of  the  unknown ; 
otherwise  she  accepted  her  position  calmly,  after 
the  manner  of  her  people,  and  even  considered  it 
quite  natural ;  for  was  she  not  a  daughter  of  war- 
riors, conquered  in  battle,  and  did  she  not  belong 
rightfully  to  the  victorious  Rajah?  Even  the  evi- 
dent kindness  of  the  terrible  old  man  must  spring, 
she  thought,  from  admiration  for  his  captive,  and 
the  flattered  vanity  eased  for  her  the  pangs  of  sor- 


26  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

row  after  such  an  awful  calamity.  Perhaps  had  she 
known  of  the  high  walls,  the  quiet  gardens,  and 
the  silent  nuns  of  the  Samarang  convent,  where 
her  destiny  was  leading  her,  she  would  have  sought 
death  in  her  dread  and  hate  of  such  a  restraint. 
But  in  imagination  she  pictured  to  herself  the 
usual  life  of  a  Malay  girl  —  the  usual  succession 
of  heavy  work  and  fierce  love,  of  intrigues,  gold 
ornaments,  of  domestic  drudgery,  and  of  that  great 
but  occult  influence  which  is  one  of  the  few  rights 
of  half-savage  womankind.  But  her  destiny  in  the 
rough  hands  of  the  old  sea-dog,  acting  under 
unreasoning  impulses  of  the  heart,  took  a  strange 
and  to  her  a  terrible  shape.  She  bore  it  all  —  the 
restraint  and  the  teaching  and  the  new  faith  — 
with  calm  submission,  concealing  her  hate  and  con- 
tempt for  all  that  new  life.  She  learned  the  lan- 
guage very  easily,  yet  understood  but  little  of  the 
new  faitn  the  good  sisters  taught  her,  assimilating 
quickly  onl}^  the  superstitious  elements  of  the  relig- 
ion. She  called  Lingard  father,  gently  and  caress- 
ingly, at  each  of  his  short  and  noisy  visits,  under 
the  clear  impression  that  he  was  a  great  and  dan- 
gerous power  it  was  good  to  propitiate.  Was  he 
not  now  her  master?  And  during  those  long  four 
years  she  nourished  a  hope  of  finding  favour  in  his 
eyes  and  ultimately  becoming  his  wife,  councillor, 
and  guide. 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  J  7 

Those  dreams  of  the  future  were  dispelled  by 
the  Rajah-Laut's  ^  fiat,"  which  made  Almayer's 
fortune,  as  that  young  man  fondly  hoped.  And 
dressed  in  the  hateful  finery  of  Europe,  the  centre 
of  an  interested  circle  of  Batavian  society,  the 
young  convert  stood  before  the  altar  with  an  un- 
known and  sulky-looking  white  man.  For  Almayer 
was  uneasy,  a  little  disgusted,  and  greatly  inclined 
to  run  away.  A  judicious  fear  of  the  adopted 
father-in-law  and  a  just  regard  for  his  own  mate- 
rial welfare  prevented  him  from  making  a  scandal ; 
yet,  while  swearing  fidelity,  he  was  concocting 
plans  for  getting  rid  of  the  pretty  Malay  girl  in 
a  more  or  less  distant  future.  She,  however,  had 
retained  enough  of  conventual  teaching  to  under- 
stand well  that  according  to  white  men's  laws  she 
was  going  to  be  Almayer's  companion  and  not  his 
slave,  and  promised  to  herself  to  act  accordingly. 

So  when  the  Flash  freighted  with  materials  for 
building  a  new  house  left  the  harbour  of  Batavia, 
taking  away  the  young  couple  into  the  unknown 
Borneo,  she  did  not  carry  on  her  deck  so  much 
love  and  happiness  as  old  Lingard  was  wont  to 
boast  of  before  his  casual  friends  in  the  verandahs 
of  various  hotels.  The  old  seaman  himself  was 
perfectly  happy.  Now  he  had  done  his  duty  by 
the  girl.  "  You  know  I  made  her  an  orphan,"  he 
often  concluded  solemnly,  when  talking  about   his 


28  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

own  affairs  to  a  scratch  audience  of  shore  loafers 
—  as  it  was  his  habit  to  do.  And  the  approbative 
shouts  of  his  half-intoxicated  auditors  filled  his 
simple  soul  with  delight  and  pride.  "  I  carry  every- 
thing right  through,"  was  another  of  his  sayings, 
and  in  pursuance  of  that  principle  he  pushed  the 
building  of  house  and  godowns  on  the  Pantai  River 
with  feverish  haste.  The  house  for  the  young 
couple ;  the  godowns  for  the  big  trade  Almayer 
was  going  to  develop  while  he  (Lingard)  would 
be  able  to  give  himseli  up  to  some  mysterious  work 
which  was  only  spoken  of  in  hints,  but  was  under- 
stood to  relate  to  gold  and  diamonds  in  the  interior 
of  the  island.  Almayer  was  impatient  too.  Had 
he  known  what  was  before  him  he  might  not  have 
been  so  eager  and  full  of  hope  as  he  stood  watching 
the  last  canoe  of  the  Lingard  expedition  disappear 
in  the  bend  up  the  river.  When,  turning  round, 
he  beheld  the  pretty  little  house,  the  big  godowns 
built  neatly  by  an  army  of  Chinese  carpenters,  the 
new  jetty  round  which  were  clustered  the  trading 
canoes,  he  felt  a  sudden  elation  in  the  thought 
that  the  world  was  his. 

But  the  world  had  to  be  conquered  first,  and  its 
conquest  was  not  so  easy  as  he  thought.  He  was 
very  soon  made  to  understand  that  he  was  not 
wanted  in  that  corner  of  it  where  old  Lingard  and 
his    own    weak    will    placed    him,   in    the    midst    of 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  29 

unscrupulous  intrigues  and  of  a  fierce  trade  com- 
petition. The  Arabs  had  found  out  the  river,  had 
established  a  trading  post  in  Sambir,  and  where 
they  traded  they  would  be  masters  and  suffer  no 
rival.  Lingard  returned  unsuccessful  from  his  first 
expedition,  and  departed  again,  spending  all  the 
profits  of  the  legitimate  trade  on  his  mysterious 
journeys.  Almayer  struggled  with  the  difficulties 
of  his  position,  friendless  and  unaided,  save  for  the 
protection  given  to  him  for  Lingard's  sake  by  the 
old  Rajah,  the  predecessor  of  Lakamba.  Lakamba 
himself,  then  living  as  a  private  individual  on  a 
rice  clearing,  seven  miles  down  the  river,  exercised 
all  his  influence  towards  the  help  of  the  white  man's 
enemies,  plotting  against  the  old  Rajah  and  Almayer 
with  a  certainty  of  combination,  pointing  clearly  to 
a  profound  knowledge  of  their  most  secret  affairs. 
Outwardly  friendly,  his  portly  form  was  often  to 
be  seen  on  Almayer's  verandah  ;  his  green  turban 
and  gold-embroidered  jacket  shone  in  the  front  rank 
of  the  decorous  throng  of  Malays  coming  to  greet 
Lingard  on  his  returns  from  the  interior ;  his 
salaams  were  of  the  lowest,  and  his  hand-shakings 
of  the  heartiest,  when  welcoming  the  old  trader. 
But  his  small  eyes  took  in  the  signs  of  the  times, 
and  he  departed  from  those  interviews  with  a 
satisfied  and  furtive  smile  to  hold  long  consultations 
with  his  friend  and  ally,   Syed   Abdulla,  the  chief 


30  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

of  the  Arab  trading  post,  a  man  of  great  wealth 
and  of  great  influence  in  the  islands- 
It  was  currently  believed  at  that  time  in  the 
settlement  that  Lakamba's  visits  to  Almayer's  house 
were  not  limited  to  those  official  interviews.  Often 
on  moonlight  nights  the  belated  fishermen  of  Sam- 
bira  saw  a  small  canoe  shooting  out  from  the  narrow 
creek  at  the  back  of  the  white  man's  house,  and  the 
solitary  occupant  paddle  cautiously  down  the  river 
in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  bank ;  and  those  events, 
duly  reported,  were  discussed  round  the  evening 
fires  far  into  the  night  with  the  cynicism  of  expres- 
sion common  to  aristocratic  Malays,  and  with  a 
malicious  pleasure  in  the  domestic  misfortunes  of  the 
Orang  Blanda  —  the  hated  Dutchman.  Almayer 
went  on  struggling  desperately,  but  with  a  feeble- 
ness of  purpose  depriving  him  of  all  chance  of  suc- 
cess against  men  so  unscrupulous  and  resolute  as 
his  rivals  the  Arabs.  The  trade  fell  away  from 
the  large  godowns,  and  the  godowns  themselves 
rotted  piecemeal.  The  old  man's  banker,  Hudig 
of  Macassar,  failed,  and  with  this  went  the  whole 
available  capital.  The  profits  of  past  years  had 
been  swallowed  up  in  Lingard's  exploring  craze. 
Lingard  was  in  the  interior  —  perhaps  dead  —  at  all 
events  giving  no  sign  of  life.  Almayer  stood  alone 
in  the  midst  of  those  adverse  circumstances,  deriving 
only  a  little  comfort  from  the  companionship  of  his 


ALMAYER'S   fOLLY.  31 

little  daughter,  born  two  years  after  the  marriage, 
ami  at  the  time  some  six  years  old.  His  wife  had 
soon  commenced  to  treat  him  with  a  savage  con- 
tempt expressed  by  sulky  silence,  only  occasionally 
varied  by  a  flood  of  savage  invective.  He  felt 
she  hated  him,  and  saw  her  jealous  eyes  watching 
himself  and  the  child  with  almost  an  expression  of 
hate.  She  was  jealous  of  the  little  girl's  evident 
preference  for  the  father,  and  Almayer  felt  he  was 
not  safe  with  that  woman  in  the  house.  While 
she  was  burning  the  furniture,  and  tearing  down 
the  pretty  curtains  in  her  unreasoning  hate  of  those 
signs  of  civilisation,  Almayer,  cowed  by  these  out- 
bursts of  savage  nature,  meditated  in  silence  on 
the  best  way  of  getting  rid  of  her.  He  thought 
of  everything ;  even  planned  murder  in  an  unde- 
cided and  feeble  sort  of  way,  but  dared  do  nothing 
—  expecting  every  day  the  return  of  Lingard  with 
news  of  some  immense  good  fortune.  He  returned 
indeed,  but  aged,  ill,  a  ghost  of  his  former  self,  with 
the  fire  of  fever  burning  in  his  sunken  eyes,  almost 
the  only  survivor  of  the  numerous  expedition.  But 
he  was  successful  at  last !  Untold  riches  were  in 
his  grasp ;  he  wanted  more  money  —  only  a  little 
more  to  realise  a  dream  of  fabulous  fortune.  And 
Hudig  had  failed !  Ahuayer  scraped  all  he  could 
tog«^ther,  but  the  old  man  wanted  more.  If  Almayer 
could   not   get   it   he   would  go  to   Singapore  —  to 


32  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Europe  even,  but  before  all  to  Singapore ;  and  he 
would  take  the  little  Nina  with  him.  The  child 
must  be  brought  up  decently.  He  had  good  friends 
in  Singapore  who  would  take  care  of  her  and  have 
her  taught  properly.  All  would  be  well,  and  that 
girl,  upon  whom  the  old  seaman  seemed  to  have 
transferred  all  his  former  affection  for  the  mother, 
would  be  the  richest  woman  in  the  East  —  in  the 
world  even.  So  old  Lingard  shouted,  pacing  the 
verandah  with  his  heavy  quarter-deck  step,  ges- 
ticulating with  a  smouldering  cheroot ;  ragged, 
dishevelled,  enthusiastic  ;  and  Almayer,  sitting  hud- 
dled up  on  a  pile  of  mats,  thought  with  dread 
of  the  separation  with  the  only  human  being  he 
loved  —  with  greater  dread  still,  perhaps,  of  the 
scene  with  his  wife,  the  savage  tigress  deprived  of 
her  young.  She  will  poison  me,  thought  the  poor 
wretch,  well  aware  of  that  easy  and  final  manner 
of  solving  the  social,  political,  or  family  problems 
in  Malay  life^ 

To  his  great  surprise  she  took  the  news  very 
quietly,  giving  only  him  and  Lingard  a  furtive 
glance,  and  saying  not  a  word.  This,  however, 
did  not  prevent  her  the  next  day  from  jumping 
in  the  river  and  swimming  after  the  boat  in  which 
Lingard  was  carrying  away  the  nurse  with  the 
screaming  child.  Almayer  had  to  give  chase  with 
his  whale-boat  and  drag  her  in  by  the  hair  in  the 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  33 

midst  of  cries  and  curses  enough  to  make  heaven 
fall.  Yet  after  two  days  spent  in  wailing,  she 
returned  to  her  former  mode  of  life,  chev^ing  betel- 
nut,  and  sitting  all  day  amongst  her  women  in 
stupefied  idleness.  She  aged  very  rapidly  after 
that,  and  only  roused  herself  from  her  apathy  to 
acknowledge  by  a  scathing  remark  or  an  insulting 
exclamation  the  accidental  presence  of  her  hus- 
band. He  had  built  for  her  a  riverside  hut  in 
the  compound  where  she  dwelt  in  perfect  seclusion. 
Lakamba's  visits  had  ceased  when,  by  a  convenient 
decree  of  Providence  and  the  help  of  a  little 
scientific  manipulation,  the  old  ruler  of  Sambir 
departed  this  life.  Lakamba  reigned  in  his  stead 
now,  having  been  well  served  by  his  Arab  friends 
with  the  Dutch  authorities.  Syed  AbduUa  was 
the  great  man  and  trader  of  the  Pantai.  Almayer 
lay  ruined  and  helpless  under  the  close-meshed 
net  of  their  intrigues,  owing  his  life  only  to  his 
supposed  knowledge  of  Lingard's  valuable  secret. 
Lingard  had  disappeared.  He  wrote  once  from 
Singapore  saying  the  child  was  well,  and  under 
the  care  of  a  Mrs.  Vinck,  and  that  he  himself  was 
going  to  Europe  to  raise  money  for  the  great 
enterprise.  "  He  was  coming  back  soon.  There 
would  be  no  difficulties,"  he  wrote ;  "  people  would 
rush  in  with  their  money."  Evidently  they  did 
not.  for  there  was  onl}-  one  letter    more  from    him 


34  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

saying  he  was  ill,  had  found  no  relation  living,  but 
little  else  besides.  Then  came  a  complete  silence. 
Europe  had  swallowed  up  the  Rajah-Laut  appar- 
ently, and  Almayer  looked  vainly  westward  for  a 
ray  of  light  out  of  the  gloom  of  his  shattered 
hopes.  Years  passed,  and  the  rare  letters  from 
Mrs.  Vinck,  later  on  from  the  girl  herself,  were 
the  only  thing  to  be  looked  to  to  make  life  bear- 
able amongst  the  triumphant  savagery  of  the  river. 
Almayer  lived  now  alone,  having  even  ceased  to 
visit  his  debtors  who  would  not  pay,  sure  of 
Lakamba's  protection.  The  faithful  Sumatrese  Ali 
cooked  his  rice  and  made  his  coffee,  for  he  dared 
not  trust  any  one  else,  and  least  of  all  his  wife. 
He  killed  time  wandering  sadly  in  the  overgrown 
paths  round  the  house,  visiting  the  ruined  godowns 
where  a  few  brass  guns  covered  with  verdigris 
and  only  a  few  broken  cases  of  mouldering  Man- 
chester goods  reminded  him  of  the  good  early 
times  when  all  this  was  of  life  and  merchandise, 
and  he  overlooked  a  busy  scene  on  the  river  bank, 
his  little  daughter  by  his  side.  Now  the  up-coun- 
try canoes  glided  past  the  little  rotten  wharf  of 
Lingard  and  Co.,  to  paddle  up  the  Pantai  branch, 
and  cluster  round  the  new  jetty  belonging  to 
Abdulla.  Not  that  they  loved  Abdulla,  but  they 
dared  not  trade  with  the  man  whose  star  had 
set.     Had   they  done   so    they  knew  there  was   no 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  35 

mercy  to  be  expected  from  Arab  or  Rajah;  no  rice 
to  be  got  on  credit  in  the  times  of  scarcity  from 
either;  and  Almayer  could  not  help  them,  having 
at  times  hardly  enough  for  himself.  Almayer,  in 
his  isolation  and  despair,  often  envied  his  near 
neighbour  the  Chinaman,  Jim-Eng,  whom  he  could 
see  stretched  on  a  pile  of  cool  mats,  a  wooden 
pillow  under  his  head,  an  opium  pipe  in  his  nerve- 
less fingers.  He  did  not  seek,  however,  consola- 
tion in  opium  —  perhaps  it  was  too  expensive  — 
perhaps  his  white  man's  pride  saved  him  from  that 
degradation;  but  most  likely  it  was  the  thought 
of  his  little  daughter  in  the  far-off  Straits  Settle- 
ments. He  heard  from  her  oftener  since  Abdulla 
bought  a  steamer,  which  ran  now  between  Singa- 
pore and  the  Pantai  settlement  every  three  months 
or  so.  Almayer  felt  himself  nearer  his  daughter. 
He  longed  to  see  her,  and  planned  a  voyage  to 
Singapore,  but  put  off  his  departure  from  year  t(» 
year,  always  expecting  some  favourable  turn  of  fort- 
une. He  did  not  want  to  meet  her  with  empty 
hands  and  with  no  words  of  hope  on  his  lips.  He 
could  not  take  her  back  into  that  savage  life  to 
which  he  was  condemned  himself.  He  was  also  a 
little  afraid  of  her.  What  would  she  think  of 
him?  He  reckoned  the  years.  A  grown  woman. 
A  civilised  woman,  young  and  hopeful;  while  he 
felt   old   and   hopeless,   and    very  much   like   those 


36  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

savages  round  him.  He  asked  himself  what  was 
going  to  be  her  future.  He  could  not  answer  that 
question  yet,  and  he  dared  not  face  her.  And  yet 
he  longed  after  her.     He  hesitated  for  years. 

His  hesitation  was  put  an  end  to  by  Nina's  unex- 
pected appearance  in  Sambir.  She  arrived  in  the 
steamer  under  the  captain's  care.  Almayer  beheld 
her  with  surprise  not  unmixed  with  wonder.  Dur- 
ing those  ten  years  the  child  had  changed  into  a 
woman,  black -haired,  olive-skinned,  tall,  and  beauti- 
ful, with  great  sad  eyes,  where  the  startled  expres- 
sion common  to  Malay  womankind  was  modified  by 
a  thoughtful  tinge  inherited  from  her  European 
ancestry.  Almayer  thought  with  dismay  of  the 
meeting  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  of  what  this 
grave  girl  in  European  clothes  would  think  of  her 
betel-nut  chewing  mother,  squatting  in  a  dark  hut, 
disorderly,  half  naked,  and  sulky.  He  also  feared 
an  outbreak  of  temper  on  the  part  of  that  pest  of  a 
woman  he  had  hitherto  managed  to  keep  tolerably 
quiet,  thereby  saving  the  remnants  of  his  dilapidated 
furniture.  And  he  stood  there  before  the  closed 
door  of  the  hut  in  the  blazing  sunshine  listening 
to  the  murmur  of  voices,  wondering  what  went  on 
inside,  wherefrom  all  the  servant-maids  had  been 
expelled  at  the  beginning  of  the  interview,  and  now 
stood  clustered  by  the  palings  with  half-covered 
faces  in  a  chatter  of  curious  speculation.     He  forgot 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  37 

himself  there  trying  to  catch  a  stray  word  through 
the  bamboo  walls,  till  the  captain  of  the  steamer, 
who  had  walked  up  with  the  girl,  fearing  a  sun- 
stroke, took  him  under  the  arm  and  led  him  into  the 
shade  of  his  own  verandah  where  Nina's  trunk  stood 
already,  having  been  landed  by  the  steamer's  men. 
As  soon  as  Captain  Ford  had  his  glass  before  him 
and  his  cheroot  lighted,  Almayer  asked  for  the 
explanation  of  his  daughter's  unexpected  arrival. 
Ford  said  little  beyond  generalising  in  vague  but 
violent  terms  upon  the  foolishness  of  women  in 
general,  and  of  Mrs.  Vinck  in  particular. 

"  You  know,  Kaspar,"  said  he,  in  conclusion,  to 
the  excited  Almayer,  "  it  is  deucedly  awkward  to 
have  a  half-caste  girl  in  the  house.  There's  such  a 
lot  of  fools  about.  There  was  that  young  fellow 
from  the  bank  who  used  to  ride  to  the  Vinck  bun- 
galow early  and  late.  That  old  woman  thought  it 
was  for  that  Emma  of  hers.  When  she  found  out 
what  he  wanted  exactly,  there  was  a  row,  I  can  tell 
you.  She  would  not  have  Nina — not  an  hour  longer 
—  in  the  house.  Fact  is,  I  heard  of  this  affair  and 
took  the  girl  to  my  wife.  My  wife  is  a  pretty  good 
woman  —  as  women  go  —  and  upon  my  word  we 
would  have  kept  the  girl  for  you,  only  she  would 
not  stay.  Now,  then  !  Don't  flare  up,  Kaspar.  Sit 
still.  What  can  you  do?  It  is  better  so.  Let  her 
stay  with  you.     She  was  never  happy  over  there. 


38  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Those  two  Vinck  girls  are  no  better  than  dressed-up 
monkeys.  They  slighted  her.  You  can't  make  her 
white.  It's  no  use  you  swearing  at  me.  You  can't. 
She  is  a  good  girl  for  all  that,  but  she  would  not  tell 
my  wife  anything.  If  you  want  to  know,  ask  her 
yourself ;  but  if  I  was  you  I  would  leave  her  alone. 
You  are  welcome  to  her  passage  money,  old  fellow, 
if  you  are  short  now."  And  the  skipper,  throwing 
away  his  cigar,  walked  off  to  "wake  them  up  on 
board,"  as  he  expressed  it. 

Almayer  vainly  expected  to  hear  of  the  cause  of 
his  daughter's  return  from  his  daughter's  lips.  Not 
that  day,  not  on  any  other  day,  did  she  ever  allude 
to  her  Singapore  life.  He  did  not  care  to  ask,  awed 
by  the  calm  impassiveness  of  her  face,  by  those 
solemn  eyes  looking  past  him  on  the  great,  still 
forests  sleeping  in  majestic  repose  to  the  murmur 
of  the  broad  river.  He  accepted  the  situation, 
happy  in  the  gentle  and  protecting  affection  the 
girl  showed  him,  fitfully  enough,  for  she  had,  as 
she  called  it,  her  bad  days  when  she  used  to  visit 
her  mother  and  remain  long  hours  in  the  riverside 
hut,  coming  out  as  inscrutable  as  ever,  but  with  a 
contemptuous  look  and  a  short  word  ready  to  answer 
any  of  his  speeches.  He  got  used  even  to  that,  and 
on  those  days  kept  quiet,  although  greatly  alarmed 
by  his  wife's  influence  upon  the  girl.  Otherwise 
Nina  adapted   herself    wonderfully   to    the   circum- 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  39 

stances  of  a  half -savage  and  miserable  life.  Slie 
accepted  without  question  or  apparent  disgust  the 
neglect,  the  decay,  the  poverty  of  the  household, 
the  absence  of  furniture,  and  the  preponderance  of 
rice  diet  on  the  family  table.  She  lived  with 
Alraayer  in  the  little  house  (now  sadly  decayed) 
built  originally  by  Lingard  for  the  young  couple. 
The  Malays  eagerly  discussed  lier  arrival.  There 
were  at  the  beginning  crowded  levees  of  Malay 
women  with  their  children,  seeking  eagerly  after 
"  Ubat "  for  all  the  ills  of  the  flesh  from  the  young 
Mem  Putih.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening  grave 
Arabs  in  long  white  shirts  and  yellow  sleeveless 
jackets  walked  slowly  on  the  dusty  path  by  the 
riverside  towards  Almayer's  gate,  and  made  solemn 
calls  upon  that  Unbeliever  under  shallow  pretences 
of  business,  only  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  young  girl 
in  a  highly  decorous  manner.  Even  Lakamba  came 
out  of  his  stockade  in  a  great  pomp  of  war  canoes 
and  red  umbrellas,  and  landed  on  the  rotten  little 
jetty  of  Lingard  and  Co.  He  came,  he  said,  to  buy 
a  couple  of  brass  guns  as  a  present  to  his  friend  the 
chief  of  Sambir  Dyaks  ;  and  while  Almayer,  sus- 
picious but  polite,  busied  himself  in  unearthing  the 
old  popguns  in  the  godowns,  the  Rajah  sat  on  an 
armchair  in  the  verandah,  surrounded  by  his  respect- 
ful retinue  waiting  in  vain  for  Nina's  appearance. 
She  was  in  one  of   her  bad  days,  and  remained  in 


40  ALMAYEK'S    FOLLY. 

her  mother's  hut  watching  with  her  the  ceremonious 
proceedings  on  the  verandah.  The  Rajah  departed, 
baffled  but  courteous,  and  soon  Almayer  began  to 
reap  the  benefit  of  improved  relations  with  the  ruler 
in  the  shape  of  the  recovery  of  some  debts,  paid  to 
him  with  many  apologies  and  many  a  low  salaam 
by  debtors  till  then  considered  hopelessly  insolvent. 
Under  these  improving  circumstances  Almayer 
brightened  up  a  little.  All  was  not  lost  perhaps. 
Those  Arabs  and  Malays  saw  at  last  that  he  was  a 
man  of  some  ability,  he  thought.  And  he  began, 
after  his  manner,  to  plan  great  things,  to  dream  of 
great  fortunes  for  himself  and  Nina.  Especially  for 
Nina !  Under  these  vivifying  impulses  he  asked 
Captain  Ford  to  write  to  his  friends  in  England 
making  inquiries  after  Lingard.  Was  he  alive  or 
dead  ?  If  dead,  had  he  left  any  papers,  documents  •, 
any  indications  or  hints  as  to  his  great  enterprise  ? 
Meantime  he  had  found  amongst  the  rubbish  in  one 
of  the  empty  rooms  a  note-book  belonging  to  the  old 
adventurer.  He  studied  the  crabbed  handwriting  of 
its  pages,  and  often  grew  meditative  over  it.  Other 
things  also  woke  him  up  from  his  apathy.  The  stir 
made  in  the  whole  of  the  island  by  the  establish- 
ment of  the  British  Borneo  Company  affected  even 
the  sluggish  flow  of  the  Pantai  life.  Great  changes 
were  expected ;  annexation  was  talked  of ;  the  Arabs 
grew  civil.     Almayer  began  building  his  new  house 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  41 

for  the  use  of  the  future  engineers,  agents,  or  settlers 
of  the  new  Company.  He  spent  every  available 
guilder  on  it  with  a  confiding  heart.  One  thing 
only  disturbed  his  happiness :  his  wife  came  out 
of  her  seclusion,  importing  her  green  jacket,  scant 
sarongs,  shrill  voice,  and  witch-like  appearance,  into 
his  quiet  life  in  the  small  bungalow.  And  his 
daughter  seemed  to  accept  that  savage  intrusion  into 
their  daily  existence  with  wonderful  equanimity. 
He  did  not  like  it,  but  dared  say  nothing. 


CHAPTER   TIL 

The  deliberations  conducted  in  London  have  a 
far-reaching  importance,  and  so  the  decision  issued 
from  the  fog-veiled  offices  of  the  Borneo  Company 
darkened  for  Almayer  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  the 
Tropics,  and  added  another  drop  of  bitterness  to  the 
cup  of  his  disenchantments.  The  claim  to  that  part 
of  the  East  Coast  was  abandoned,  leaving  the  Pantai 
River  under  the  nominal  power  of  Holland.  In 
Sambir  there  was  joy  and  excitement.  The  slaves 
were  hurried  out  of  sight  into  the  forest  and 
jungle,  and  the  flags  were  run  up  to  tall  poles  in 
the  Rajah's  compound  in  expectation  of  a  visit 
from  Dutch  man-of-war  boats. 

The  frigate  remained  anchored  outside  the  mouth 
of  the  river  and  the  boats  came  up  in  tow  of 
the  steam  launch,  threading  their  way  cautiously 
amongst  a  crowd  of  canoes  filled  with  gaily  dressed 
Malays.  The  officer  in  command  listened  gravely 
to  the  loyal  speeches  of  Lakamba,  returned  the 
salaams  of  Abdulla,  and  assured  those  gentlemen  in 
choice  Malay  of  the  great  Rajah's  —  down  in  Batavia 

42 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  43 

—  friendship  and  goodwill    towards    the    ruler  and 
inhabitants  of  this  model  state  of  Sambir. 

Almayer  from  his  verandah  watched  across  the 
river  the  festive  proceedings,  heard  the  report  of 
brass  guns  saluting  the  new  flag  presented  to  La- 
karaba,  and  the  deep  murmur  of  the  crowd  of 
spectators  surging  round  the  stockade.  The  smoke 
of  the  firing  rose  in  white  clouds  on  the  green 
background  of  the  forests,  and  he  could  not  helj) 
comparing  his  own  fleeting  hopes  to  the  rapidly 
disappearing  vapour.  He  was  by  no  means  patri- 
otically elated  by  the  event,  yet  he  had  to  force 
himself  into  a  gracious  behaviour  when,  the  ofiicial 
reception  being  over,  the  naval  officers  of  the 
Commission  crossed  the  river  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
solitary  white  man  of  whom  they  had  heard,  no 
doubt  wishing  also  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his 
daughter.  In  that  they  were  disappointed,  Nina 
refusing  to  show  herself ;  but  they  seemed  easily 
consoled  by  the  gin  and  cheroots  set  before  them 
by  the  hospitable  Almayer  ;  and  sprawling  comfort- 
ably on  the  lame  armchairs  under  the  shade  of  the 
verandah,  while  the  blazing  sunshine  outside  seemed 
to  set  the  great  river  simmering  in  the  heat,  they 
filled  the  little  bungalow  with  the  unusual  sounds 
of  European  languages,  with  noise  and  laughter 
produced  by  naval  witticisms  at  the  expense  of 
the  fat  Lakamba  whom  they  had  been  compliment- 


44  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

ing  so  much  that  very  morning.  The  younger 
men  in  an  access  of  good  fellowship  made  their 
host  talk,  and  Almayer,  excited  by  the  sight  of 
European  faces,  by  the  sound  of  European  voices, 
opened  his  heart  before  the  sympathising  strangers, 
unaware  of  the  amusement  the  recital  of  his  many 
misfortunes  caused  to  those  future  admirals.  They 
drank  his  health,  wished  him  many  big  diamonds 
and  a  mountain  of  gold,  expressed  even  an  envy  of 
the  high  destinies  awaiting  him  yet.  Encouraged 
by  so  muoh  friendliness,  the  grey-headed  and  foolish 
dreamer  invited  his  guests  to  visit  his  new  house. 
They  went  there  through  the  long  grass  in  a 
straggling  procession  while  their  boats  were  got 
ready  for  the  return  down  the  river  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening.  And  in  the  great  empty  rooms 
where  the  tepid  wind  entering  through  the  sashless 
windows  whirled  gently  the  dried  leaves  and  the 
dust  of  many  days  of  neglect,  Almayer  in  his  white 
jacket  and  flowered  sarong,  surrounded  by  a  circle 
of  glittering  uniforms,  stamped  his  foot  to  show  the 
solidity  of  the  neatly-fitting  floors  and  expatiated 
upon  the  beauties  and  convenience  of  the  building. 
They  listened  and  assented,  amazed  by  the  wonder- 
ful simplicity  and  the  foolish  hopefulness  of  the 
man,  till  Almayer,  carried  away  by  his  excitement, 
disclosed  his  regret  at  the  non-arrival  of  the  Eng- 
lish, "who  knew  how  to  develop  a  rich   country," 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  46 

as  he  expressed  it.  There  was  a  general  laugh 
amongst  the  Dutch  officers  at  that  unsophisticated 
statement,  and  a  move  was  made  towards  the  boats ; 
but  when  Almayer,  stepping  cautiously  on  the  rot- 
ten boards  of  the  Lingard  jetty,  tried  to  approach 
the  chief  of  the  Commission  with  some  timid  hints 
anent  the  protection  required  by  the  Dutch  subject 
against  the  wily  Arabs,  that  salt-water  diplomat 
told  him  significantly  that  the  Arabs  were  better 
subjects  than  Hollanders  who  dealt  illegally  in 
gunpowder  with  the  jNIalays.  The  innocent  Al- 
mayer recognised  there  at  once  the  oily  tongue  of 
Abdulla  and  the  solemn  persuasiveness  of  Lakamba, 
but  ere  he  had  time  to  frame  an  indignant  protest 
the  steam  launch  and  the  string  of  boats  moved 
rapidly  down  the  river  leaving  him  on  the  jetty, 
standing  open-mouthed  in  his  surprise  and  anger. 
There  are  thirty  miles  of  river  from  Sambir  to  the 
gem-like  islands  of  the  estuary  where  the  frigate 
was  awaiting  the  return  of  the  boats.  The  moon 
rose  long  before  the  boats  had  traversed  half  that 
distance,  and  the  black  forest  sleeping  peacefully 
under  her  cold  rays  woke  up  that  night  to  the 
ringing  laughter  in  the  small  flotilla  provoked  by 
some  reminiscence  of  Almayer 's  lamentable  narra- 
tive. Salt-water  jests  at  the  poor  man's  expense 
were  passed  from  boat  to  boat,  the  non-appearance 
of  his  daughter  was  commented  upon    with   severe 


4G  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

displeasure,  and  the  half-finished  house  built  for 
the  reception  of  Englishmen  received  on  that  joj^- 
ous  night  the  name  of  "  Almayer's  Folly "  by  the 
unanimous  vote  of  the  lighthearted   seamen. 

For  many  weeks  after  this  visit  life  in  Sambir 
resumed  its  even  and  uneventful  flow.  Each  day's 
sun  shooting  its  morning  rays  above  the  tree-tops 
lit  up  the  usual  scene  of  daily  activity.  Nina  walk- 
ing on  the  path  that  formed  the  only  street  in  the 
settlement  saw  the  accustomed  sight  of  men  lolling 
on  the  shady  side  of  the  houses,  on  the  high  plat- 
forms; of  women  busily  engaged  in  husking  the 
daily  rice ;  of  naked  brown  children  racing  along 
the  shady  and  narrow  paths  leading  to  the  clearings. 
Jim-Eng,  strolling  before  his  house,  greeted  her 
with  a  friendly  nod  before  climbing  up  indoors  to 
seek  his  beloved  opium  pipe.  The  elder  children 
clustered  round  her,  daring  from  long  acquaintance, 
pulling  the  skirts  of  her  white  robe  with  their  dark 
fingers,  and  showing  their  brilliant  teeth  in  expec- 
tation of  a  shower  of  glass  beads.  She  greeted 
them  with  a  quiet  smile,  but  always  had  a  few 
friendly  Avords  for  a  Siamese  girl,  a  slave  owned  by 
Bulangi,  whose  numerous  wives  were  said  to  be  of 
a  violent  temper.  Well-founded  rumour  said  also 
that  the  domestic  squabbles  of  that  industrious  cul- 
tivator ended  generally  in  a  combined  assault  of  all 
his  wives  upon  the  Siamese  slave.     The  girl  herself 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  47 

never  complained  —  perhaps  from  dictates  of  pru- 
dence, but  more  likely  through  the  strange,  resigned 
apathy  of  half -savage  womankind.  From  early 
morning  she  was  to  be  seen  on  the  paths  amongst 
the  houses  —  by  the  riverside  or  on  the  jetties,  the 
tray  of  pastry,  it  was  her  mission  to  sell,  skilfully 
balanced  on  her  head.  During  the  great  heat  of  the 
day  she  usually  sought  refuge  in  Almayer's  cam- 
pong,  often  finding  shelter  in  a  shady  corner  of  the 
verandah,  where  she  squatted  with  her  tray  before 
her,  when  invited  by  Nina.  For  "  Mem  Putih  "  she 
had  always  a  smile,  but  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Al- 
mayer,  the  very  sound  of  her  shrill  voice,  was  the 
signal  for  a  hurried  departure. 

To  this  girl  Nina  often  spoke  ;  the  other  inhab- 
itants of  Sambir  seldom  or  never  heard  the  sound 
of  her  voice.  They  got  used  to  the  silent  figure 
moving  in  their  midst,  calm  and  white-robed,  a 
being  from  another  world  and  incomprehensible  to 
them.  Yet  Nina's  life  for  all  her  outward  com- 
posure, for  all  the  seeming  detachment  from  the 
things  and  people  surrounding  her,  was  far  from 
quiet,  in  consequence  of  Mrs.  Almayer  being  much 
too  active  for  the  happiness  and  even  safety  of  the 
household.  She  had  resumed  some  intercourse  with 
Lakamba,  not  personally,  it  is  true  (for  the  dignity 
of  that  potentate  kept  him  inside  his  stockade), 
but  through  the  agency  of  that  potentate's  prime 


48  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

minister,  liarbour  master,  financial  adviser,  and 
general  factotum.  That  gentleman  —  of  Sulu  ori- 
gin—  was  certainly  endowed  with  statesmanlike 
qualities,  although  he  was  totally  devoid  of  per- 
sonal charms.  In  truth  he  was  perfectly  repulsive, 
possessing  only  one  eye  and  a  pock-marked  face, 
with  nose  and  lips  horribly  disfigured  by  the  small- 
pox. This  unengaging  individual  often  strolled 
into  Almayer's  garden  in  unofficial  costume,  com- 
posed of  a  piece  of  pink  calico  round  his  waist. 
There  at  the  back  of  the  house,  squatting  on  his 
heels  on  scattered  embers,  in  close  proximity  to  the 
great  iron  boiler,  where  the  family  daily  rice  was 
being  cooked  by  the  women  under  Mrs.  Almayer's 
superintendence,  did  that  astute  negotiator  carry  on 
long  conversations  in  Sulu  language  with  Almayer's 
wife.  What  the  subject  of  their  discourses  was 
might  have  been  guessed  from  the  subsequent 
domestic  scenes  by  Almayer's  hearthstone. 

Of  late  Almayer  had  taken  to  excursions  up  the 
river.  In  a  small  canoe  with  two  paddlers  and  the 
faithful  Ali  for  a  steersman  he  would  disappear  for 
a  few  days  at  a  time.  All  his  movements  were  no 
doubt  closely  watched  by  Lakamba  and  AbduUa,  for 
the  man  once  in  the  confidence  of  Rajah-Laut  was 
supposed  to  be  in  possession  of  valuable  secrets. 
The  coast  population  of  Borneo  believes  implicitly 
in    diamonds  of   fabulous    value,  in   gold   mines  of 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  49 

enormous  richness  in  the  interior.  And  all  those 
imaginings  are  heightened  by  the  difficulty  of  pene- 
trating far  inland,  especially  on  the  north-east  coast, 
where  the  Malays  and  the  river  tribes  of  Dyaks  or 
Head-hunters  are  eternally  quarrelling.  It  is  true 
enough  that  some  gold  reaches  the  coast  in  the  hands 
of  those  Dyaks  when,  during  short  periods  of  truce 
in  the  desultory  warfare,  they  visit  the  coast  settle- 
ments of  Malays.  And  so  the  wildest  exaggerations 
are  built  up  and  added  to  on  the  slight  basis  of  that 
fact. 

Almayer  in  his  quality  of  white  man  —  as  Lingard 
before  him  —  had  somewhat  better  relations  with  the 
up-river  tribes.  Yet  even  his  excursions  were  not 
without  danger,  and  his  returns  were  eagerly  looked 
for  by  the  impatient  Lakamba.  But  every  time  the 
Rajah  was  disappointed.  Vain  were  the  conferences 
by  the  rice-pot  of  his  factotum  Babalatchi  with  the 
white  man's  wife.  The  white  man  himself  was  im- 
penetrable—  impenetrable  to  persuasion,  coaxing, 
abuse  ;  to  soft  words  and  shrill  revilings  ;  to  desper- 
ate beseechings  or  murderous  threats ;  for  Mrs. 
Almayer,  in  her  extreme  desire  to  persuade  her 
husband  into  an  alliance  with  Lakamba,  played 
upon  the  whole  gamut  of  passion.  With  her  soiled 
robe  wound  tightly  under  the  armpits  across  her 
lean  bosom,  her  scant  greyish  hair  tumbled  in  dis- 
order over  her  projecting  cheek-bones,  in  suppliant 


50  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

attitude,  she  depicted  with  shrill  volubility  the  ad- 
vantages of  close  union  with  a  man  so  good  and  so 
fair  dealing. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  the  Rajah  ?  "  she  screamed. 
"  Why  do  you  go  back  to  those  Dyaks  in  the  great 
forest?  They  should  be  killed.  You  cannot  kill 
them,  you  cannot ;  but  our  Rajah's  men  are  brave  I 
You  tell  the  Rajah  where  the  old  white  man's  treas- 
ure is.  Our  Rajah  is  good  !  He  is  our  very  grand- 
father, Datu  Besar !  He  will  kill  those  wretched 
Dyaks,  and  you  shall  have  half  the  treasure.  Oh, 
Kaspar,  tell  where  the  treasure  is  !  Tell  me  I  Tell 
me  out  of  the  old  man's  surat  where  you  read  so 
often  at  night." 

On  those  occasions  Almayer  sat  with  rounded 
shoulders  bending  to  the  blast  of  this  domestic 
tempest,  accentuating  only  each  pause  in  the  tor- 
rent of  his  wife's  eloquence  by  an  angry  growl, 
"  There  is  no  treasure  !  Go  away,  woman  !  "  Exas- 
perated by  the  sight  of  his  patiently  bent  back,  she 
would  at  last  walk  round  so  as  to  face  him  across 
the  table,  and  clasping  her  robe  with  one  hand  she 
stretched  the  other  lean  arm  and  claw-like  hand 
to  emphasise,  in  a  passion  of  anger  and  contempt, 
the  rapid  rush  of  scathing  remarks  and  bitter  curs- 
ings heaped  on  the  head  of  the  man  unworthy  to 
associate  with  brave  Malay  chiefs.  It  ended  gener- 
ally by  Almayer  rising  slowly,  his  long  pipe  in  hand. 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  51 

his  face  set  into  a  look  of  inward  pain,  and  walk- 
ing away  in  silence.  He  descended  the  steps  and 
plunged  into  the  long  grass  on  his  way  to  the  soli- 
tude of  his  new  house,  dragging  his  feet  in  a  state 
of  physical  collapse  from  disgust  and  fear  before 
that  fury.  She  followed  to  the  head  of  the  steps, 
and  sent  the  shafts  of  indiscriminate  abuse  after 
the  retreating  form.  And  each  of  those  scenes  was 
concluded  by  a  piercing  shriek,  reaching  him  far 
away.  "  You  know,  Kaspar,  I  am  your  wife !  your 
own  Christian  wife  after  your  own  Blanda  law!" 
For  she  knew  that  this  was  the  bitterest  thing  of 
all ;  the  greatest  regret  of  that  man's  life. 

All  these  scenes  Nina  witnessed  unmoved.  She 
might  have  been  deaf,  dumb,  without  any  feeling  as 
far  as  any  expression  of  opinion  went.  Yet  oft  when 
her  father  had  sought  the  refuge  of  the  great  dusty 
rooms  of  "  Almayer's  Folly,"  and  her  mother,  ex- 
hausted by  rhetorical  efforts,  squatted  wearily  on 
her  heels  with  her  back  against  the  leg  of  the  table, 
Nina  would  approach  her  curiously,  guarding  her 
skirts  from  betel  juice  besprinkling  the  floor,  and 
gaze  down  upon  her  as  one  might  look  into  the  qui- 
escent crater  of  a  volcano  after  a  destructive  erup- 
tion. Mrs.  Almayer's  thoughts,  after  these  scenes, 
were  usually  turned  into  a  channel  of  childhood  rem- 
iniscences, and  she  gave  them  utterance  in  a  kind 
of  monotonous  recitative  —  slightly  disconnected,  but 


52  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

generally  describing  the  glories  of  the  Sultan  of  Sulu, 
his  great  splendour,  his  power,  his  great  prowess  ;  the 
fear  which  benumbed  the  hearts  of  white  men  at  the 
sight  of  his  swift  piratical  praus.  And  these  mut- 
tered statements  of  her  grandfather's  might  were 
mixed  up  with  bits  of  later  recollections,  where  the 
great  fight  with  the  "White  Devil's"  brig  and 
the  convent  life  in  Samarang  occupied  the  princi- 
pal place.  At  that  point  she  usually  dropped  the 
thread  of  her  narrative,  and  pulling  out  the  little 
brass  cross,  always  suspended  round  her  neck,  she 
contemplated  it  with  superstitious  awe.  That  super- 
stitious feeling  connected  with  some  vague  talismanic 
properties  of  the  little  bit  of  metal,  and  the  still  more 
hazy  but  terrible  notion  of  some  bad  Djinns  and  hor- 
rible torments  invented,  as  she  thought,  for  her  espe- 
cial punishment  by  the  good  Mother  Superior  in  case 
of  the  loss  of  the  above  charm,  were  Mrs.  Almayer's 
only  theological  luggage  for  the  stormy  road  of  life. 
Mrs.  Almayer  had  at  least  something  tangible  to 
cling  to,  but  Nina,  brought  up  under  the  Protestant 
wing  of  the  proper  Mrs.  Vinck,  had  not  even  a  little 
piece  of  brass  to  remind  her  of  past  teaching.  And 
listening  to  the  recital  of  those  savage  glories,  those 
barbarous  fights  and  savage  feasting,  to  the  stor}'^  of 
deeds  valorous,  albeit  somewhat  bloodthirsty,  where 
men  of  her  mother's  race  shone  far  above  the  Orang 
Blanda,  she  felt  herself  irresistibly  fascinated,  and 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  63 

saw  with  vague  surprise  the  narrow  mantle  of  civil- 
ised morality,  in  which  good-meaning  people  had 
wrapped  her  young  soul,  fall  away  and  leave  her 
shivering  and  helpless  as  if  on  the  edge  of  some 
deep  and  unknown  abyss.  Strangest  of  all,  this 
abyss  did  not  frighten  her  when  she  was  under 
the  influence  of  the  witch-like  being  she  called  her 
mother.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  in  civilised 
surroundings  her  life  before  the  time  when  Lingard 
had,  so  to  speak,  kidnapped  her  from  Brow.  Since 
then  she  had  had  Christian  teaching,  social  educa- 
tion, and  a  good  glimpse  of  civilised  life.  Unfortu- 
nately her  teachers  did  not  understand  her  nature, 
and  the  education  ended  in  a  scene  of  humiliation,  in 
an  outburst  of  contempt  from  white  people  for  her 
mixed  blood.  She  had  tasted  the  whole  bitterness 
of  it  and  remembered  distinctly  that  the  virtuous 
Mrs.  Vinck's  indignation  was  not  so  much  directed 
against  the  young  man  from  the  bank  as  against  the 
innocent  cause  of  that  young  man's  infatuation.  And 
there  was  also  no  doubt  in  her  mind  that  the  princi- 
pal cause  of  Mrs.  Vinck's  indignation  was  the  thought 
that  such  a  thing  should  happen  in  a  white  nest, 
where  her  snow-white  doves,  the  two  Misses  Vinck, 
had  just  returned  from  Europe,  to  find  shelter  under 
the  maternal  wing,  and  there  await  the  coming  of 
irreproachable  men  of  their  destiny.  Not  even  the 
thought  of  the  money  so  painfully  scraped  together 


54  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

by  Almayer,  and  so  punctually  sent  for  Nina's  ex- 
penses, could  dissuade  Mrs.  Vinck  from  her  virtuous 
resolve.  Nina  was  sent  away,  and  in  truth  the  girl 
herself  wanted  to  go,  although  a  little  frightened  by 
the  impending  change.  And  now  she  had  lived  on 
the  river  for  three  years  with  a  savage  mother  and 
a  father  walking  about  amongst  pitfalls,  with  his 
head  in  the  clouds,  weak,  irresolute,  and  unhappy. 
She  had  lived  a  life  devoid  of  all  the  decencies  of 
civilisation,  in  miserable  domestic  conditions ;  she 
had  breathed  in  the  atmosphere  of  sordid  plottings 
for  gain,  of  the  no  less  disgusting  intrigues  and 
crimes  for  lust  or  money;  and  those  things,  together 
with  the  domestic  quarrels,  were  the  only  events  of 
her  three  years'  existence.  She  did  not  die  from 
despair  and  disgust  the  first  month,  as  she  expected 
and  almost  hoped  for.  On  the  contrary,  at  the  end 
of  half  a  year  it  had  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
known  no  other  life.  Her  young  mind  having  been 
unskilfully  permitted  to  glance  at  better  things,  and 
then  thrown  back  again  into  the  hopeless  quagmire 
of  barbarism,  full  of  strong  and  uncontrolled  pas- 
sions, had  lost  the  power  to  discriminate.  It  seemed 
to  Nina  that  there  was  no  change  and  no  difference. 
Whether  they  traded  in  brick  godowns  or  on  the 
muddy  river  bank ;  whether  they  reached  after  much 
or  little ;  whether  they  made  love  under  the  shadows 
of  the  great  trees  or  in  the  shadow  of  the  cathedral 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  55 

on  the  Singapore  promenade ;  whether  they  plotted 
for  their  own  ends  under  the  protection  of  laws  and 
according  to  the  rules  of  Christian  conduct,  or 
whether  they  sought  the  gratification  of  their  de- 
sires with  the  savage  cunning  and  the  unrestrained 
lierceness  of  natures  as  innocent  of  culture  as  their 
own  immense  and  gloomy  forests,  Nina  saw  only  the 
same  manifestations  of  love  and  hate  and  of  sordid 
greed  chasing  the  uncertain  dollar  in  all  its  multifa- 
rious and  vanishing  shapes.  To  her  resolute  nature, 
however,  after  all  these  years,  the  savage  and  uncom- 
promising sincerity  of  purpose  shown  by  her  Mala^* 
kinsmen  seemed  at  last  preferable  to  the  sleek  hypoc- 
risy, to  the  polite  disguises,  to  the  virtuous  pretences 
of  such  white  people  as  she  had  had  the  misfortune 
to  come  in  contact  with.  After  all  it  was  her  life  ; 
it  was  going  to  be  her  life,  and  so  thinking  she  fell 
more  and  more  under  the  influence  of  her  mother. 
Seeking,  in  her  ignorance,  a  better  side  to  that  life, 
she  listened  with  avidity  to  the  old  woman's  tales 
of  the  departed  glories  of  the  Rajahs,  from  whose 
race  she  had  sprung,  and  she  became  gradually  more 
indifferent,  more  contemptuous  of  the  white  side  of 
her  descent  represented  by  a  feeble  and  traditionless 
father. 

Almayer's  difficulties  were  by  no  means  dimin- 
ished by  the  girl's  presence  in  Sambir.  The  stir 
caused  by  her  arrival  had  died  out,  it  is  true,  and 


56  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Lakamba  had  not  renewed  his  visits  ;  but  about  a 
year  after  the  departure  of  the  man-of-war  boats 
the  nephew  of  AbduUa,  Syed  Reshid,  returned 
from  his  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  rejoicing  in  a  green 
jacket  and  the  proud  title  of  Hadji.  There  was  a 
great  letting  off  of  rockets  on  board  the  steamer 
which  brought  him  in,  and  a  great  beating  of  drums 
all  night  in  Abdulla's  compound,  while  the  feast  of 
welcome  was  prolonged  far  into  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning.  Reshid  was  the  favourite  nephew 
and  heir  of  Abdulla,  and  that  loving  uncle,  meeting 
Almayer  one  day  by  the  riverside,  stopped  politely 
to  exchange  civilities  and  to  ask  solemnly  for  an 
interview.  Almayer  suspected  some  attempt  at  a 
swindle,  or  at  any  rate  something  unpleasant,  but 
of  course  consented  with  a  great  show  of  rejoicing. 
Accordingly,  the  next  evening,  after  sunset,  Abdulla 
came,  accompanied  by  several  other  greybeards  and 
by  his  nephew.  That  young  man  —  of  a  very  rakish 
and  dissipated  appearance  —  affected  the  greatest 
indifference  as  to  the  whole  of  the  proceedings. 
When  the  torch-bearers  had  grouped  themselves 
below  the  steps,  and  the  visitors  had  seated  them- 
selves on  various  lame  chairs,  Reshid  stood  apart 
in  the  shadow,  examining  his  aristocratically  small 
hands  with  great  attention.  Almayer,  surprised  by 
the  great  solemnity  of  his  visitors,  perched  himself 
on  the  corner  of  the  table  with  a  characteristic  want 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  57 

of  dignity  quickly  noted  by  the  Arabs  with  grave 
disapproval.  But  AbduUa  spoke  now,  looking 
straight  past  Almayer  at  the  red  curtain  hanging 
in  the  doorway,  where  a  slight  tremor  disclosed  the 
presence  of  women  on  the  other  side.  He  began 
by  neatly  complimenting  Almayer  upon  the  long 
years  they  had  dwelt  together  in  cordial  neigh- 
bourhood, and  called  upon  Allah  to  give  him 
many  more  years  to  gladden  the  eyes  of  his 
friends  by  his  welcome  presence.  He  made  a 
polite  allusion  to  the  great  consideration  shown 
him  (Almayer)  by  the  Dutch  "  Commissie,"  and 
drew  thence  the  flattering  inference  of  Almayer's 
great  importance  amongst  his  own  people.  He  — 
AbduUa  —  was  also  important  amongst  all  the 
Arabs,  and  his  nephew  Reshid  would  be  heir  of 
that  social  position  and  of  great  riches.  Now 
Reshid  was  a  Hadji.  He  was  possessor  of  several 
Malay  women,  went  on  Abdulla,  but  it  was  time 
he  had  a  favourite  wife,  the  first  of  the  four 
allowed  by  the  Prophet.  And,  speaking  with 
well-bred  politeness,  he  explained  further  to  the 
dumbfounded  Almayer  that,  if  he  would  consent 
to  the  alliance  of  his  offspring  with  that  true 
believer  and  virtuous  man  Reshid,  she  would  be 
the  mistress  of  all  the  splendours  of  Reshid's 
house,  and  first  wife  of  the  first  Arab  in  the 
Islands,   when    he  —  Abdulla  —  was   called   to  the 


58  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

joys  of  Paradise  by  Allah  the  All-merciful.  "•  You 
know,  Tuan,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  the  other 
women  would  be  her  slaves,  and  Reshid's  house  is 
great.  From  Bombay  he  has  brought  great  divans, 
and  costly  carpets,  and  European  furniture.  There 
is  also  a  great  looking-glass  in  a  frame  shining 
like  gold.  What  could  a  girl  want  more?"  And 
while  Almayer  looked  upon  him  in  silent  dismay 
AbduUa  spoke  in  a  more  confidential  tone,  Avaving 
his  attendants  away,  and  finished  his  speech  by 
pointing  out  the  material  advantages  of  such  an 
alliance,  and  offering  to  settle  upon  Almayer  three 
thousand  dollars  as  a  sign  of  his  sincere  friendship 
and  the  price  of  the  girl. 

Poor  Almayer  was  nearly  having  a  fit.  Burning 
with  the  desire  of  taking  Abdulla  by  the  throat, 
he  had  but  to  think  of  his  helpless  position  in  the 
midst  of  lawless  men  to  comprehend  the  necessity 
of  diplomatic  conciliation.  He  mastered  his  im- 
pulses, and  spoke  politely  and  coldly,  saying  the 
girl  was  young  and  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  Tuan 
Reshid,  a  Faithful  and  a  Hadji,  would  not  want 
an  infidel  woman  in  his  harem ;  and,  seeing  Abdulla 
smile  sceptically  at  that  last  objection,  he  remained 
silent,  not  trusting  himself  to  speak  more,  not  dar- 
ing to  refuse  point-blank,  nor  yet  to  say  anything 
compromising.  Abdulla  understood  the  meaning 
of    that   silence,   and   rose    to    take   leave   with    a 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  69 

grave  salaam.  He  wished  his  friend  Almayer  "a 
thousand  years,"  and  moved  down  the  steps,  helped 
dutifully  by  Reshid.  The  torch-bearers  shook  their 
torches,  scattering  a  shower  of  sparks  into  the  river, 
and  the  cortege  moved  off,  leaving  Almayer  agitated 
but  greatly  relieved  by  their  departure.  He  dropped 
into  a  chair  and  watched  the  glimmer  of  the  lights 
amongst  the  tree  trunks  till  they  disappeared  and 
complete  silence  succeeded  the  tramp  of  feet  and 
the  murmur  of  voices.  He  did  not  move  till  the 
curtain  rustled  and  Nina  came  out  on  the  verandah 
and  sat  in  the  rocking-chair,  where  she  used  to 
spend  many  hours  every  day.  She  gave  a  slight 
rocking  motion  to  her  seat,  leaning  back  with  half- 
closed  eyes,  her  long  hair  shading  her  face  from 
the  smoky  light  of  the  lamp  on  the  table.  Almayer 
looked  at  her  furtively,  but  the  face  was  as  impas- 
sible as  ever.  She  turned  her  head  slightly  towards 
her  father,  and,  speaking,  to  his  great  surprise,  in 
English,  asked  — 

"Was  that  Abdulla  here?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Almayer  —  "  just  gone." 

"  And  what  did  he  want,  father  ?  " 

"  He  wanted  to  buy  you  for  Reshid,"  answered  Al- 
mayer, brutally,  his  anger  getting  the  better  of  him, 
and  looking  at  the  girl  as  if  in  expectation  of  some 
outbreak  of  feeling.  But  Nina  remained  apparently 
unmoved,  gazing  dreamily  into  the  black  night  outside. 


60  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Be  careful,  Nina,"  said  Almayer,  after  a  short 
silence  and  rising  from  his  chair,  "when  you  go 
paddling  alone  into  the  creeks  in  your  canoe.  That 
Reshid  is  a  violent  scoundrel,  and  there  is  no  saying 
what  he  may  do.     Do  you  hear  me?" 

She  was  standing  now,  ready  to  go  in,  one  hand 
grasping  the  curtain  in  the  doorway.  She  turned 
round,  throwing  her  heavy  tresses  back  by  a  sudden 
gesture. 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  dare  ? "  she  asked, 
quickly,  and  then  turned  again  to  go  in,  adding  in 
a  lower  tone,  "  He  would  not  dare.  Arabs  are  all 
cowards." 

Almayer  looked  after  her,  astonished.  He  did 
not  seek  the  repose  of  his  hammock.  He  walked 
the  floor  absently,  sometimes  stopping  by  the  bal- 
ustrade to  think.  The  lamp  went  out.  The  first 
streak  of  dawn  broke  over  the  forest ;  Almayer 
shivered  in  the  damp  air.  "  I  give  it  up,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  lying  down  wearily.  "  Damn  those 
women !  Well !  If  the  girl  did  not  look  as  if  she 
wanted  to  be  kidnapped!  " 

And  he  felt  a  nameless  fear  creep  into  his  heart, 
making  him  shiver  again. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

That  year,  towards  the  breaking  up  of  the  south- 
west monsoon,  disquieting  rumours  reached  Sambir. 
Captain  Ford,  coming  up  to  Almayer's  house  for  an 
evening's  chat,  brought  late  numbers  of  the  Straits 
Times  giving  the  news  of  Acheen  war  and  of  the  un- 
successful Dutch  expedition.  The  Nakhodas  of  the 
rare  trading  praus  ascending  the  river  paid  visits  to 
Lakamba,  discussing  with  that  potentate  the  un- 
settled state  of  affairs,  and  wagged  their  heads 
gravely  over  the  recital  of  Orang  Blanda  exaction, 
severity,  and  general  tyranny,  as  exemplified  in  the 
total  stoppage  of  gunpowder  trade  and  the  rigorous 
visiting  of  all  suspicious  craft  trading  in  the  straits 
of  Macassar.  Even  the  loyal  soul  of  Lakamba  was 
stirred  into  a  state  of  inward  discontent  by  the  with- 
drawal of  his  license  for  powder  and  by  the  abrupt 
confiscation  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  barrels  of  that 
commodity  by  the  gunboat  Princess  Amelia^  when, 
after  a  hazardous  voyage,  it  had  almost  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  The  unpleasant  news  was  given 
him  by  Reshid,  who,  after  the  unsuccessful  issue  of 

61 


62  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

his  matrimonial  projects,  had  made  a  long  voyage 
amongst  the  islands  for  trading  purposes;  had  bought 
the  powder  for  his  friend,  and  was  overhauled  and 
deprived  of  it  on  his  return  when  actually  congratu- 
lating himself  on  his  acuteness  in  avoiding  detec- 
tion. Reshid's  wrath  was  principally  directed  against 
Almayer,  whom  he  suspected  of  having  notified  the 
Dutch  authorities  of  the  desultory  warfare  carried 
on  by  the  Arabs  and  the  Rajah  with  the  up-river 
Dyak  tribes. 

To  Reshid's  great  surprise  the  Rajah  received  his 
complaints  very  coldly,  and  showed  no  signs  of 
vengeful  disposition  towards  the  white  man.  In 
truth,  Lakamba  knew  very  well  that  Almayer  was 
perfectly  innocent  of  any  meddling  in  state  affairs  ; 
and  besides,  his  attitude  towards  that  much  perse- 
cuted individual  was  wholly  changed  in  consequence 
of  a  reconciliation  effected  between  him  and  his 
old  enemy  by  Almayer's  newly-found  friend,  Dain 
Maroola. 

Almayer  had  now  a  friend.  Shortly  after  Reshid's 
departure  on  his  commercial  journey,  Nina,  drifting 
slowly  with  the  tide  in  the  canoe  on  her  return 
home  after  one  of  her  solitary  excursions,  heard  in 
one  of  the  small  creeks  a  splashing,  as  if  of  heavy 
ropes  dropping  in  the  water,  and  the  prolonged  song 
of  Malay  seamen  when  some  heavy  pulling  is  to  be 
done.     Through  the  thick   fringe  of  bushes  hiding 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  63 

the  mouth  of  the  creek  she  saw  the  tall  spars  of  some 
European-rigged  sailing  vessel  overtopping  the  sum- 
mits of  the  Nipa  palms.  A  brig  was  being  hauled 
out  of  the  small  creek  into  the  main  stream.  The 
sun  had  set,  and  during  the  short  moments  of  twi- 
light Nina  saw  the  brig,  aided  by  the  evening  breeze 
and  the  flowing  tide,  head  towards  Sambir  under  her 
set  foresail.  The  girl  turned  her  canoe  out  of  the 
main  river  into  one  of  the  many  narrow  channels 
amongst  the  wooded  islets,  and  paddled  vigorously 
over  the  black  and  sleepy  backwaters  towards  Sam- 
bir. Her  canoe  brushed  the  water-palms,  skirted 
the  short  spaces  of  muddy  bank  where  sedate  alli- 
gators looked  at  her  with  lazy  unconcern,  and,  just 
as  darkness  was  setting  in,  shot  out  into  the  broad 
junction  of  the  two  main  branches  of  the  river, 
where  the  brig  was  already  at  anchor  with  sails 
furled,  yards  squared,  and  decks  seemingly  un- 
tenanted by  any  human  being.  Nina  had  to  cross 
the  river  and  pass  pretty  close  to  the  brig  in  order 
to  reach  home  on  the  low  promontory  between  the 
two  branches  of  the  Pantai.  Up  both  branches,  in 
the  houses  built  on  the  banks  and  over  the  water, 
the  lights  twinkled  already,  reflected  in  the  still 
waters  below.  The  hum  of  voices,  the  occasional 
cry  of  a  child,  the  rapid  and  abruptly  interrupted 
roll  of  a  wooden  drum,  together  with  some  distant 
hailing  in   the  darkness  by  the  returning  fishermen, 


64  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

reached  her  over  the  broad  expanse  of  the  river. 
She  hesitated  a  little  before  crossing,  the  sight  of 
such  an  unusual  object  as  an  European-rigged  vessel 
causing  her  some  uneasiness,  but  the  river  in  its  wide 
expansion  was  dark  enough  to  render  a  small  canoe 
invisible.  She  urged  her  small  craft  with  swift 
strokes  of  her  paddle,  kneeling  in  the  bottom  and 
bending  forward  to  catch  any  suspicious  sound  while 
she  steered  towards  the  little  jetty  of  Lingard  and 
Co.,  to  which  the  strong  light  of  the  paraffin  lamp 
shining  on  the  whitewashed  verandah  of  Almayer's 
bungalow  served  as  a  convenient  guide.  The  jetty 
itself,  under  the  shadow  of  the  bank  overgrown  by 
drooping  bushes,  was  hidden  in  darkness.  Before 
even  she  could  see  it  she  heard  the  hollow  bumping 
of  a  large  boat  against  its  rotten  posts,  and  heard  also 
the  murmur  of  whispered  conversation  in  that  boat 
whose  white  paint  and  great  dimensions,  faintly 
visible  on  nearer  approach,  made  her  rightly  guess 
that  it  belonged  to  the  brig  just  anchored.  She 
landed  at  the  muddy  head  of  the  creek  and  made 
her  way  towards  the  house  over  the  trodden  grass 
of  the  courtyard.  To  the  left,  from  the  cooking 
shed,  shone  a  red  glare  through  the  banana  plan- 
tation she  skirted,  and  the  noise  of  feminine  laughter 
reached  her  from  there  in  the  silent  evening.  She 
rightly  judged  her  mother  was  not  near,  laughter 
and  Mrs.  Almayer  not  being  close  neighbours.     She 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  65 

must  be  in  the  house,  thought  Nina,  as  she  ran 
lightly  up  the  inclined  plane  of  shaky  planks  lead- 
ing to  the  back  door  of  the  narrow  passage  dividing 
the  house  in  two.  Outside  the  doorway,  in  the 
black  shadow,  stood  the  faithful  Ali. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  asked  Nina. 

"  A  great  Malay  man  has  come,"  answered  Ali, 
in  a  tone  of  suppressed  excitement.  "  He  is  a  rich 
man.  There  are  six  men  with  lances.  Real  Soldat, 
you  understand.  And  his  dress  is  very  brave.  I 
have  seen  his  dress.  It  shines !  What  jewels ! 
Don't  go  there,  Mem  Nina.  Tuan  said  not;  but 
the  old  Mem  is  gone.  Tuan  will  be  angry.  Merci- 
ful Allah !  what  jewels  that  man  has  got !  " 

Nina  slipped  past  the  outstretched  hand  of  the 
slave  into  the  dark  passage  where,  in  the  crimson 
glow  of  the  hanging  curtain,  close  by  its  other 
end,  she  could  see  a  small  dark  form  crouching 
near  the  wall.  Her  mother  was  feasting  her  eyes 
and  ears  with  what  was  taking  place  on  the 
front  verandah,  and  Nina  approached  to  take 
her  share  in  the  rare  pleasure  of  some  novelty. 
She  was  met  by  her  mother's  extended  arm 
and  by  a  low  murmured  warning  not  to  make 
noise. 

"  Have  you  seen  them,  mother  ?  "  asked  Nina,  in 
a  breathless  whisper. 

Mrs.   Almayer  turned  her  face  towards  the  girl. 


66  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

and  her  sunken  eyes  shone  strangely  in  the  red 
half-light  of  the  passage. 

"  I  saw  him,"  she  said,  in  an  almost  audible  tone, 
pressing  her  daughter's  hand  with  her  bony  fingers. 
"A  great  Rajah  has  come  to  Sambir  —  a  Son  of 
Heaven,"  muttered  the  old  woman  to  herself.  "  Go 
away,  girl !  " 

The  two  women  stood  close  to  the  curtain,  Nina 
wishing  to  approach  the  rent  in  the  stuff,  and  her 
mother  defending  the  position  with  angry  obstinacy. 
On  the  other  side  there  was  a  lull  in  the  conversa- 
tion, but  the  breathing  of  several  men,  the  occasional 
light  tinkling  of  some  ornaments,  the  clink  of  metal 
scabbards,  or  of  brass  siri-vessels  passed  from  hand 
to  hand,  was  audible  during  the  short  pause.  Tlie 
women  struggled  silently,  when  there  was  a  shuffling 
noise  and  the  shadow  of  Almayer's  burly  form  fell 
on  the  curtain. 

The  women  ceased  struggling  and  remained 
motionless.  Almayer  had  stood  up  to  answer  his 
guest,  turning  his  back  to  the  doorway,  unaware  of 
what  was  going  on  on  the  other  side.  He  spoke 
in  a  tone  of  regretful  irritation. 

"  You  have  come  to  the  wrong  house,  Tuan 
Maroola,  if  you  want  to  trade  as  you  say.  I  was 
a  trader  once,  not  now,  whatever  you  may  have 
heard  about  me  in  Macassar.  And  if  you  want 
anything,  you  will  not  find  it  here  ;  I  have  nothing 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  67 

to  give,  and  want  notliing  myself.  You  should  go 
to  the  Rajah  here  ;  you  can  see  in  the  daytime  his 
houses  across  the  river,  there  where  those  fires  are 
burning  on  the  shore.  He  will  help  you  and  trade 
with  you.  Or,  better  still,  go  to  the  Arabs  over 
there,"  he  went  on  bitterly,  pointing  with  his  hand 
towards  the  houses  of  Sambir.  "  Abdulla  is  the 
man  you  want.  There  is  nothing  he  would  not 
buy,  and  there  is  nothing  he  would  not  sell ;  believe 
me,  I  know  him  well." 

He  waited  for  an  answer  a  short  time,  then 
added  — 

"  All  that  I  have  said  is  true,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing more." 

Nina,  held  back  by  her  mother,  heard  a  soft  voice 
reply  with  a  calm  evenness  of  intonation  peculiar 
to  the  better  class  Malays  — 

''  Who  would  doubt  a  white  Tuan's  words  ?  A 
man  seeks  his  friends  where  his  heart  tells  him.  Is 
this  not  true  also?  I  have  come,  although  so  late, 
for  I  have  something  to  say  which  you  may  be  glad 
to  hear.  To-morrow  I  will  go  to  the  Sultan ;  a 
trader  wants  the  friendship  of  great  men.  Then 
I  shall  return  here  to  speak  serious  words,  if 
Tuan  permits.  I  shall  not  go  to  the  Arabs ;  their 
lies  are  very  great!     What  are  they?     Chelakkal" 

Almayer's  voice  sounded  a  little  more  pleasantly 
in  reply. 


tJ8  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Well,  as  you  like.  I  can  hear  you  to-morrow 
at  any  time  if  you  have  anything  to  say.  Bah ! 
After  you  have  seen  the  Sultan  Lakamba  you  will 
not  want  to  return  here,  Inchi  Dain.  You  will 
see.  Only  mind,  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Lakamba.  You  may  tell  him  so.  What  is  your 
business  with  me,  after  all  ?  " 

"To-morrow  we  talk,  Tuan,  now  I  know  you," 
answered  the  Malay.  "I  speak  English  a  little, 
so  we  can  talk  and  nobody  will  understand,  and 
then " 

He  interrupted  himself  suddenly,  asking,  sur- 
prised, "What's  that  noise,  Tuan?" 

Almayer  had  also  heard  the  increasing  noise  of 
the  scuffle  recommenced  on  the  women's  side  of 
the  curtain.  Evidently  Nina's  strong  curiosity 
was  on  the  point  of  overcoming  Mrs.  Almayer's 
exalted  sense  of  social  proprieties.  Hard  breathing 
was  distinctly  audible,  and  the  curtain  shook  dur- 
ing the  contest,  which  was  mainly  physical,  although 
Mrs.  Almayer's  voice  was  heard  in  angry  remon- 
strance with  its  usual  want  of  strictly  logical 
reasoning,  but  with  the  well-known  richness  of 
invective. 

"  You  shameless  woman  !  Are  you  a  slave  ?  " 
shouted  shrilly  the  irate  matron.  "  Veil  your  face, 
abandoned  wretch !  You  white  snake,  I  will  not 
let  you !  " 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  60 

Almayer's  face  expressed  annoyance  and  also 
doubt  as  to  tlie  advisability  of  interfering  between 
mother  and  daughter.  He  glanced  at  his  Malay 
visitor,  who  was  waiting  silently  for  the  end  of 
the  uproar  in  an  attitude  of  amused  expectation, 
and  waving  his  hand  contemptuously  he  mur- 
mured — 

"It  is  nothing.     Some  women." 

The  Malay  nodded  his  head  gravely,  and  his 
face  assumed  an  expression  of  serene  indifference, 
as  etiquette  demanded  after  such  an  explanation. 
The  contest  was  ended  behind  the  curtain,  and 
evidently  the  younger  will  had  its  way,  for  the 
rapid  shuffle  and  click  of  Mrs.  Almayer's  high- 
heeled  sandals  died  away  in  the  distance.  The 
tranquillised  master  of  the  house  was  going  to 
resume  the  conversation  when,  struck  by  the  sud- 
den change  in  the  expression  of  his  guest's  coun- 
tenance, he  turned  his  head  and  saw  Nina  standing 
in  the  doorway. 

After  Mrs.  Almayer's  retreat  from  the  field  of 
battle,  Nina,  with  a  contemptuous  exclamation, 
"  It's  only  a  trader,"  had  lifted  the  conquered 
curtain  and  now  stood  in  full  light,  framed  in  the 
dark  background  on  the  passage,  h3r  lips  slightly 
parted,  her  hair  in  disorder  after  the  exertion,  the 
angry  gleam  not  yet  faded  out  of  her  glorious  and 
sparkling  eyes.     She  took  in  at  a  glance  the  group 


70  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

of  white-clad  lancemen  standing  motionless  in  the 
shadow  of  the  far-off  end  of  the  verandah,  and 
her  gaze  rested  curiously  on  the  chief  of  that 
imposing  cortege.  He  stood,  almost  facing  her, 
a  little  on  one  side,  and  struck  by  the  beauty  of 
the  unexpected  apparition  had  bent  low,  elevating 
his  joint  hands  above  his  head  in  a  sign  of  respect 
accorded  by  Malays  only  to  the  great  of  this  earth. 
The  crude  light  of  the  lamp  shone  on  the  gold 
embroidery  of  his  black  silk  jacket,  broke  in  a 
thousand  sparkling  rays  on  the  jewelled  hilt  of 
his  kriss  protruding  from  under  the  many  folds 
of  the  red  sarong  gathered  into  a  sash  round  his 
waist,  and  played  on  the  precious  stones  of  the 
many  rings  on  his  dark  fingers.  He  straightened 
himself  up  quickly  after  the  low  bow,  putting  liis 
hand  with  a  graceful  ease  on  the  hilt  of  his  heavy 
short  sword  ornamented  with  brilliantly  dyed  fringes 
of  horsehair.  Nina,  hesitating  on  the  threshold, 
saw  an  erect  lithe  figure  of  medium  height  with 
a  breadth  of  shoulder  suggesting  great  power. 
Under  the  folds  of  a  blue  turban,  whose  fringed 
ends  hung  gracefully  over  the  left  shoulder,  was 
a  face  full  of  determination  and  expressing  a  reck- 
less good-humour,  not  devoid,  however,  of  some 
dignity.  The  squareness  of  lower  jaw,  the  full 
red  lips,  the  mobile  nostrils,  and  the  proud  carriage 
of  the  head  gave  the  impression  of  a  being  half- 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  71 

savage,  untamed,  perhaps  cruel,  and  corrected  the 
liquid  softness  of  the  almost  feminine  eye,  that 
general  characteristic  of  the  race.  Now,  the  first 
surprise  over,  Nina  saw  those  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
with  such  an  uncontrolled  expression  of  admiration 
and  desire  that  she  felt  a  hitherto  unknown  feeling 
of  shjruess,  mixed  with  alarm  and  some  delight, 
enter  and  penetrate  her  whole  being.  Confused 
by  those  unusual  sensations  she  stopped  in  the  door- 
way and  instinctively  di-ew  the  lower  part  of  the 
curtain  across  her  face,  leaving  only  half  a  rounded 
cheek,  a  stray  tress,  and  one  eye  exposed,  where- 
with to  contemplate  the  gorgeous  and  bold  being 
so  unlike  in  appearance  to  the  rare  specimens  of 
traders  she  had  seen  before  on  that  same  verandah. 

Dain  Maroola,  dazzled  by  the  unexpected  vision, 
forgot  the  confused  Almayer,  forgot  his  brig,  his 
escort  staring  in  open-mouthed  admiration,  the 
object  of  his  visit  and  all  things  else,  in  his  over- 
powering desire  to  prolong  the  contemplation  of  so 
much  loveliness  met  so  suddenly  in  such  an  unlikely 
place  —  as  he  thought. 

'■''  It  is  my  daughter,"  said  Almayer,  in  an  embar- 
rassed manner.  "  It  is  of  no  consequence.  White 
women  have  their  customs,  as  you  know,  Tuan  hav- 
ing travelled  much,  as  you  say.  However,  it  is  late; 
we  will  finish  our  talk  to-morrow." 

Dain  bent  low  trying  to  convey  in  a  last  glance 


72  ALMAYKK'S    FOLLY. 

towards  the  girl  the  bold  expression  of  his  over- 
whelming admiration.  The  next  minute  he  was 
shaking  Almayer's  hand  with  grave  courtesy,  his 
face  wearing  a  look  of  stolid  unconcern  as  to  any 
feminine  presence.  His  men  filed  off,  and  he  fol- 
lowed them  quickly,  closely  attended  by  a  thick-set, 
savage-looking  Sumatrese  he  had  introduced  before 
as  the  commander  of  his  brig.  Nina  walked  to  the 
balustrade  of  the  verandah  and  saw  the  sheen  of 
moonlight  on  the  steel  spear-heads  and  heard  the 
rhythmic  jingle  of  brass  anklets  as  the  men  moved 
in  single  file  towards  the  jetty.  The  boat  shoved 
off  after  a  little  while,  looming  large  in  the  full  light 
of  the  moon,  a  black  shapeless  mass  in  the  slight 
haze  hanging  over  the  water.  Nina  fancied  she 
could  distinguish  the  graceful  figure  of  the  trader 
standing  erect  in  the  stern  sheets,  but  in  a  little 
while  all  the  outlines  got  blurred,  confused,  and 
soon  disappeared  in  the  folds  of  white  vapour 
shrouding  the  middle  of  the  river. 

Almayer  had  approached  his  daughter,  and  leaning 
with  both  arms  over  the  rail,  was  looking  moodily 
down  on  the  heap  of  rubbish  and  broken  bottles  at 
the  foot  of  the  verandah. 

"  What  was  all  that  noise  just  now  ?  "  he  growled 
peevishly,  without  looking  up.  "  Confound  you  and 
your  mother  !  What  did  she  want  ?  What  did  you 
come  out  for  ?  " 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  73 

"  She  did  not  want  to  let  me  come  out,"  said  Nina. 
"  She  is  angry.  She  says  the  man  ju  t  gone  is  some 
Rajah.     I  think  she  is  right  now." 

"  I  believe  all  you  women  are  crazy,"  snarled 
Almayer.  "  What's  that  to  you,  to  her,  to  anybody  ? 
The  man  wants  to  collect  trepang  and  birds'  nests 
on  the  islands.  He  told  me  so,  that  Rajah  of  yours. 
He  will  come  to-morrow.  I  want  you  both  to  keep 
away  from  the  house,  and  let  me  attend  to  my  busi- 
ness in  peace." 

Dain  Maroola  came  the  next  day  and  had  a  long 
conversation  with  Almayer.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  close  and  friendly  intercourse  which,  at 
first,  was  much  remarked  in  Sambir,  till  the  popula- 
tion got  used  to  the  frequent  sight  of  many  fires 
burning  in  Almayer's  campong,  where  Maroola's 
men  were  warming  themselves  during  the  cold 
nights  of  the  north-east  monsoon,  while  their  master 
had  long  conferences  with  the  Tuan  Putih  —  as  they 
styled  Almayer  amongst  themselves.  Great  was  the 
curiosity  in  Sambir  on  the  subject  of  the  new  trader. 
Had  he  seen  the  Sultan  ?  What  did  the  Sultan  say  ? 
Has  he  given  any  presents  ?  What  would  he  sell  ? 
What  would  he  buy?  Those  were  the  questions 
broached  eagerly  by  the  inhabitants  of  bamboo 
houses  built  over  the  river.  Even  in  more  substan- 
tial buildings,  in  Abdulla's  house,  in  the  residences 
of  principal  traders,  Arab,  Cliinese,  and  Bugis,  the 


74  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

excitement  ran  high,  and  lasted  many  days.  With 
inborn  suspicion  they  would  not  believe  the  simple 
account  of  himself  the  young  trader  was  always 
ready  to  give.  Yet  it  had  all  the  appearance  of 
truth.  He  said  he  was  a  trader,  and  sold  rice.  He 
did  not  want  to  buy  gutta-percha  or  beeswax,  be- 
cause he  intended  to  employ  his  numerous  crew  in 
collecting  trepang  on  the  coral  reefs  outside  the 
river,  and  also  in  seeking  for  birds'-nests  on  the 
mainland.  Those  two  articles  he  professed  himself 
ready  to  buy  if  there  were  any  to  be  obtained  in  that 
way.  He  said  he  was  from  Bali,  and  a  Brahmin, 
which  last  statement  he  made  good  by  refusing  all 
food  during  his  often  repeated  visits  to  Lakamba's 
and  Almayer's  houses.  To  Lakamba  he  went  gen- 
erally at  night  and  had  long  audiences.  Babalatchi, 
who  was  always  a  third  party  at  those  meetings  of 
potentate  and  trader,  knew  how  to  resist  all  attempts 
on  the  part  of  the  curious  to  ascertain  the  subject 
of  so  many  long  talks.  When  questioned  with  lan- 
guid courtesy  by  the  grave  AbduUa  he  sought  refuge 
in  a  vacant  stare  of  his  one  eye,  and  in  the  affecta- 
tion of  extreme  simplicity. 

"•  I  am  only  my  master's  slave,"  murmured 
Babalatchi,  in  a  hesitating  manner.  Then  as  if 
making  up  his  mind  suddenly  for  a  reckless  con- 
fidence he  Avould  inform  Abdulla  of  some  transac- 
tion in  rice,  repeating  the  words,  "  A  hundred  big 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  75 

bags  the  Sultan  bought ;  a  hundred,  Tuan  I "  in  a 
tone  of  mysterious  solemnity.  Abdulla,  firmly  per- 
suaded of  the  existence  of  some  more  important 
dealings,  received,  however,  the  information  with 
all  the  signs  of  respectful  astonishment.  And  the 
two  would  separate,  the  Arab  cursing  inwardly  the 
wily  dog,  while  Babalatchi  went  on  his  way  walk- 
ing on  the  dusty  path,  his  body  swaying,  his  chin 
with  its  few  grey  hairs  pushed  forward,  resembling 
an  inquisitive  goat  bent  on  some  unlawful  expe- 
dition. Attentive  eyes  watched  his  movements. 
Jim-Eng,  descrying  Babalatchi  far  away,  would 
shake  off  the  stupor  of  an  habitual  opium  smoker 
and,  tottering  on  to  the  middle  of  the  road,  would 
await  the  approach  of  that  important  person,  ready 
with  hospitable  invitation.  But  Babalatchi's  discre- 
tion was  proof  even  against  the  combined  assaults  of 
good  fellowship  and  of  strong  gin  generously  admin- 
istered by  the  open-hearted  Chinaman.  Jim-Eng, 
owning  himself  beaten,  was  left  uninformed  with 
the  empty  bottle,  and  gazed  sadly  after  the  depart- 
ing form  of  the  statesman  of  Sambir  pursuing  his 
devious  and  unsteady  way,  which,  as  usual,  led 
him  to  Almayer's  compound.  Ever  since  a  recon- 
ciliation had  been  effected  by  Dain  Maroola  between 
his  white  friend  and  the  Rajah,  the  one-eyed  dip- 
lomatist had  again  become  a  frequent  guest  in  the 
Dutchman's  house.     To  Almayer's  great  disgust  he 


76  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

was  to  be  seen  there  at  all  times,  strolling  about  in 
an  abstracted  kind  of  way  on  the  verandah,  skulking 
in  the  passages,  or  else  popping  round  unexpected 
corners,  always  willing  to  engage  Mrs.  Almayer  in 
confidential  conversation.  He  was  very  shy  of  the 
master  himself,  as  if  suspicious  that  the  pent-up 
feelings  of  the  white  man  towards  his  person  might 
find  vent  in  a  sudden  kick.  But  the  cooking  shed 
was  his  favourite  place,  and  he  became  an  habitual 
guest  there,  squatting  for  hours  amongst  the  busy 
women,  with  his  chin  resting  on  his  knees,  his  lean 
arms  clasped  round  his  legs,  and  his  one  eye  roving 
uneasily  —  the  very  picture  of  watchful  ugliness. 
Almayer  wanted  more  than  once  to  complain  to 
Lakamba  of  his  Prime  Minister's  intrusion,  but 
Dain  dissuaded  him.  "  We  cannot  say  a  word  here 
that  he  does  not  hear,"  growled  Almayer. 

"  Then  come  and  talk  on  board  the  brig,"  retorted 
Dain,  with  a  quiet  smile.  "  It  is  good  to  let  the 
man  come  here.  Lakamba  thinks  he  knows  much. 
Perhaps  the  Sultan  thinks  I  want  to  run  away. 
Better  let  the  one-eyed  crocodile  sun  himself  in 
your  campong,  Tuan." 

And  Almayer  assented  unwillingly,  muttering 
vague  threats  of  personal  violence,  while  he  eyed 
malevolently  the  aged  statesman  sitting  with  quiet 
obstinacy  by  his  domestic  rice-pot. 


CHAPTER   V. 

At  last  the  excitement  had  died  out  in  Sambir. 
The  inhabitants  got  used  to  the  sight  of  comings 
and  goings  between  Almayer's  house  and  the 
vessel,  now  moored  to  the  opposite  bank,  and 
speculation  as  to  the  feverish  activity  displayed  by 
Almayer's  boatmen  in  repairing  old  canoes  ceased 
to  interfere  with  the  due  discharge  of  domestic 
duties  by  the  women  of  the  Settlement.  Even  the 
baffled  Jim-Eng  left  off  troubling  his  muddled  brain 
with  secrets  of  trade,  and  relapsed  by  the  aid  of 
his  opium  pipe  into  a  state  of  stupefied  bliss,  letting 
Babalatchi  pursue  his  way  past  his  house  uninvited 
and  seemingly  unnoticed. 

So  on  that  warm  afternoon,  when  the  deserted 
river  sparkled  under  the  vertical  sun,  the  statesman 
of  Sambir  could,  without  any  hindrance  from 
friendly  inquirers,  shove  off  his  little  canoe  frf)ia 
under  the  bushes,  where  it  was  usually  hidden 
during  his  visits  to  Almayer's  compound.  Slowly 
and  languidly  Babalatchi  paddled,  crouching  low  in 
the  boat,  making  himself  small  under  his  enormous 

27 


78  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

sun  hat  to  escape  the  scorching  heat  reflected  from 
the  water.  He  was  not  in  a  hurry ;  his  master, 
Lakamba,  was  surely  reposing  at  this  time  of  the 
day.  He  would  have  ample  time  to  cross  over  and 
greet  him  on  his  waking  with  important  news.  Will 
he  be  displeased?  Will  he  strike  his  ebony  wood 
staff  angrily  on  the  floor,  frightening  him  by  the 
incoherent  violence  of  his  exclamations ;  or  will  he 
squat  down  v/ith  a  good-humoured  smile,  and,  rub- 
bing his  hands  gently  over  his  stomach  with  a 
familiar  gesture,  expectorate  copiously  into  the  brass 
siri-vessel,  giving  vent  to  a  low,  approbative  mur- 
mur? Such  were  Babalatchi's  thoughts  as  he  skil- 
fully handled  his  paddle,  crossing  the  river  on  his 
way  to  the  Rajah's  campong,  whose  stockades  showed 
from  behind  the  dense  foliage  of  the  bank  just  oppo- 
site to  Almayer's  bungalow. 

Indeed,  he  had  a  report  to  make.  Something  cer- 
tain at  last  to  confirm  the  daily  tale  of  suspicions, 
the  daily  hints  of  familiarity,  of  stolen  glances 
he  had  seen,  of  short  and  burning  words  he  had 
overheard  exchanged  between  Dain  Maroola  and 
Almayer's  daughter.  Lakamba  had,  till  then,  lis- 
tened to  it  all,  calmly  and  with  evident  distrust ; 
now  he  was  going  to  be  convinced,  for  Babalatchi 
had  the  proof;  had  it  this  very  morning,  when 
fishing  at  break  of  day  in  the  creek  over  which 
stood    Bulangi's    house.     There   from   his   skiff    he 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  79 

saw  Nina's  long  canoe  drift  past,  the  girl  sitting  in 
the  stern  bending  over  Dain,  who  was  stretched 
in  the  bottom  with  his  head  resting  on  the  girl's 
knees.  He  saAv  it.  He  followed  them,  but  in  a 
short  time  they  took  to  the  paddles  and  got  away 
from  under  his  observant  eye.  A  few  minutes  after- 
wards he  saw  Bulangi's  slave-girl  paddling  in  a  small 
dug-out  to  the  town  witli  her  cakes  for  sale.  She 
also  had  seen  them  in  the  grey  dawn.  And  Baba- 
latchi  grinned  confidentially  to  himself  at  the  recol- 
lection of  the  slave-girl's  discomposed  face,  of  the 
hard  look  in  her  eyes,  of  the  tremble  in  her  voice, 
when  answering  his  questions.  That  little  Taminah 
evidently  admired  Dain  Maroola.  That  was  good ! 
And  Babalatchi  laughed  aloud  at  the  notion ;  then 
becoming  suddenly  serious,  he  began  by  some  strange 
association  of  ideas  to  speculate  upon  the  price  for 
which  Bulangi  would,  possibly,  sell  the  girl.  He 
shook  his  head  sadly  at  the  i  bought  that  Bulangi 
was  a  hard  man,  and  had  refused  one  hundred  dollars 
for  that  same  Taminah  only  a  few  weeks  ago  ;  then 
he  became  suddenly  aware  that  the  canoe  had  drifted 
too  far  down  during  his  meditation.  He  shook  off 
the  despondency  caused  by  the  certitude  of  Bulangi's 
mercenary  disposition,  and,  taking  up  his  paddle,  in 
a  few  strokes  sheered  alongside  the  water-gate  of 
the  Rajah's  house. 

That  afternoon  .Vlmayer,  as  was  his  wont  lately, 


80  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

moved  about  on  the  water-side,  overlooking  the  re- 
pairs to  his  boats.  He  had  decided  at  last.  Guided 
by  the  scraps  of  information  contained  in  old  Lin- 
gard's  pocket-book,  he  was  going  to  seek  for  the  rich 
gold-mine,  for  that  place  where  he  had  only  to  stoop 
to  gather  up  an  immense  fortune  and  realise  the 
dream  of  his  young  days.  To  obtain  the  necessary 
help  he  had  shared  his  knowledge  with  Dain  Maroola, 
he  had  consented  to  be  reconciled  with  Lakamba, 
who  gave  his  support  to  the  enterprise  on  condition 
of  sharing  the  profits;  he  had  sacrified  his  pride, 
his  honour,  and  his  loyalty  in  the  face  of  the 
enormous  risk  of  his  undertaking,  dazzled  by  the 
greatness  of  the  results  to  be  achieved  by  this 
alliance  so  distasteful  yet  so  necessary.  The  dan- 
gers were  great,  but  Maroola  was  brave;  his  men 
seemed  as  reckless  as  their  chief,  and  with  Lakamba's 
aid  success  seemed  assured. 

For  the  last  fortnight  Alraayer  was  absorbed  in 
the  preparations,  walking  amongst  his  workmen  and 
slaves  in  a  kind  of  waking  trance,  where  practical 
details  as  to  the  fitting  out  of  the  boats  were  mixed 
up  with  vivid  dreams  of  untold  wealth,  where  the 
present  misery  of  burning  sun,  of  the  muddy  and 
malodorous  river  bank  disappeared  in  a  gorgeous 
vision  of  a  splendid  future  existence  for  Uimself 
and  Nina.  He  hardly  saw  Nina  during  these  last 
days,  although  the  beloved  daughter  was  ever  pres- 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  81 

ent  in  his  thoughts.  He  hardly  took  notice  of 
Da  in,  whose  constant  presence  in  his  house  had 
become  a  matter  of  course  to  him,  now  they  were 
connected  by  a  community  of  interests.  When 
meeting  the  young  chief  he  gave  him  an  absent 
greeting  and  passed  on,  seemingly  wishing  to  avoid 
him,  bent  upon  forgetting  the  hated  reality  of  the 
present  by  absorbing  himself  in  his  work,  or  else 
by  letting  his  imagination  soar  far  above  the  tree- 
tops  into  the  great  white  clouds  away  to  the  west- 
ward, where  the  paradise  of  Europe  was  awaiting 
the  future  Eastern  millionaire.  And  Maroola,  now 
the  bargain  was  struck  and  there  was  no  more 
business  to  be  talked  over,  evidently  did  not  care 
for  the  white  man's  company.  Yet  Dain  was  al- 
ways about  the  house,  but  he  seldom  stayed  long 
by  the  riverside.  On  his  daily  visits  to  the  white 
man  the  Malay  chief  preferred  to  make  his  way 
quietly  through  the  central  passage  of  the  house, 
and  would  come  out  into  the  garden  at  the  back, 
where  the  fire  was  burning  in  the  cooking  shed, 
with  the  rice  kettle  swinging  over  it,  under  the 
watchful  supervision  of  Mrs.  Almayer.  Avoiding 
that  shed,  with  its  black  smoke  and  the  warbling 
of  soft,  feminine  voices,  Dain  would  turn  to  the 
left.  There,  on  the  edge  of  a  banana  plantation, 
a  clump  of  palms  and  mango  trees  formed  a  shady 
spot,    a   few   scattered    bushes   giving    it   a   certain 


82  ALMAYER'S   f^OLLY. 

seclusion  into  which  only  the  serving  women's  chat- 
ter or  an  occasional  burst  of  laughter  could  pene- 
trate. Once  in,  he  was  invisible;  and  hidden  there, 
leaning  against  the  smooth  trunk  of  a  tall  palm,  he 
waited  with  gleaming  eyes  and  an  assured  smile 
to  hear  the  faint  rustle  of  dried  grass  under  the 
light  footsteps  of  Nina. 

From  the  very  first  moment  when  his  eyes  beheld 
this  —  to  him  —  perfection  of  loveliness  he  felt  in 
his  inmost  heart  the  conviction  that  she  would  be 
his ;  he  felt  the  subtle  breath  of  mutual  understand- 
ing passing  between  their  two  savage  natures,  and 
he  did  not  want  Mrs.  Almayer's  encouraging  smiles 
to  take  every  opportunity  of  approaching  the  girl ; 
and  every  time  he  spoke  to  her,  every  time  he  looked 
into  her  eyes,  Nina,  although  averting  her  face,  felt 
as  if  this  bold-looking  being  who  spoke  burning 
words  into  her  willing  ear  was  the  embodiment  of  her 
fate,  the  creature  of  her  dreams  —  reckless,  ferocious, 
ready  with  flashing  kriss  for  his  enemies,  and  with 
passionate  embrace  for  his  beloved  —  the  ideal  Malay 
chief  of  her  mother's  tradition. 

She  recognised  with  a  thrill  of  delicious  fear  the 
mysterious  consciousness  of  her  identity  with  that 
being.  Listening  to  his  words,  it  seemed  to  her 
she  was  born  only  then  to  a  knowledge  of  a  new 
existence,  that  her  life  was  complete  only  when  near 
him,    and   she    abandoned    herself    to   a    feeling   of 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  83 

dreamy  happiness,  while  with  half-veiled  face  and 
in  silence  —  as  became  a  Malay  girl  —  she  listened 
to  Dain's  words  giving  up  to  her  the  whole  treasure 
of  love  and  passion  his  nature  was  capable  of  with  all 
the  unrestrained  enthusiasm  of  a  man  totally  untram- 
melled by  any  influence  of  civilised  self-discipline. 

And  they  used  to  pass  many  a  delicious  and  fast 
fleeting  hour  under  the  mango  trees  behind  the 
friendly  curtain  of  bushes  till  Mrs.  Almayer's  shrill 
voice  gave  the  signal  of  unwilling  separation.  Mrs. 
Almayer  had  undertaken  the  easy  task  of  watching 
her  husband  lest  he  should  interrupt  the  smooth 
course  of  her  daughter's  love  affair,  in  which  she 
took  a  great  and  benignant  interest.  She  was 
happy  and  proud  to  see  Dain's  infatuation,  believ- 
ing him  to  be  a  great  and  powerful  chief,  and  she 
found  also  a  gratification  of  her  mercenary  instincts 
in  Dain's  open-handed  generosity. 

On  the  eve  of  the  day  when  Babalatchi's  suspicions 
were  confirmed  by  ocular  demonstration  Dain  and 
Nina  had  remained  longer  than  usual  in  their  shady 
retreat.  Only  Almayer's  heavy  step  on  the  veran- 
dah and  his  querulous  clamour  for  food  decided  Mrs. 
Almayer  to  lift  a  warning  cry.  Maroola  leaped 
lightly  over  the  low  bamboo  fence,  and  made  his 
way  stealthily  through  the  banana  plantation  down 
to  the  muddy  shore  of  the  back  creek,  while  Nina 
walked  slowly  towards  the  house  to  minister  to  her 


84  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

father's  wants,  as  was  her  wont  every  evening. 
Almayer  felt  happy  enough  that  evening ;  the 
preparations  were  nearly  completed;  to-morrow  he 
would  launch  his  boats.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  saw 
the  rich  prize  in  his  grasp ;  and,  with  tin  spoon  in 
his  hand,  he  was  forgetting  the  plateful  of  rice 
before  him  in  the  fanciful  arrangement  of  some 
splendid  banquet  to  take  place  on  his  arrival  in 
Amsterdam.  Nina,  reclining  in  the  long  chair, 
listened  absently  to  the  few  disconnected  words 
escaping  from  her  father's  lips.  Expedition !  Gold  I 
What  did  she  care  for  all  that?  But  at  the  name 
of  Maroola  mentioned  by  her  father  she  was  all 
attention.  Dain  was  going  down  the  river  witli 
his  brig  to-morroAv  to  remain  away  for  a  few  days, 
said  Almayer.  It  was  very  annoying,  this  delay. 
As  soon  as  Dain  returned  they  would  have  to  start 
without  loss  of  time,  for  the  river  was  rising.  He 
would  not  be  surprised  if  a  great  flood  was  coming. 
And  he  pushed  away  his  plate  with  an  impatient 
gesture  on  rising  from  the  table.  But  now  Nina 
heard  him  not.  Dain  going  away  !  That's  why  he 
had  ordered  her,  with  that  quiet  masterfulness  it 
was  her  delight  to  obey,  to  meet  him  at  break  of 
day  in  Bulangi's  creek.  Was  there  a  paddle  in  hei- 
canoe?  she  thought.  Was  it  ready?  She  would 
have  to  start  early — ^at  four  in  the  morning,  in  a 
very  few  hours. 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  85 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  thinking  she  would  re- 
quire rest  before  the  long  pull  in  the  early  morning. 
The  lamp  was  burning  dimly,  and  her  father,  tired 
with  the  day's  labour,  was  already  in  his  hammock. 
Nina  put  the  lamp  out  and  passed  into  a  large 
room  she  shared  with  her  mother  on  the  left  of 
the  central  passage.  Entering,  she  saw  that  Mrs. 
Almayer  had  deserted  the  pile  of  mats  serving  her 
as  bed  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  was  now 
bending  over  the  opened  lid  of  her  large  wooden 
chest.  Half  a  shell  of  cocoanut  filled  with  oil. 
where  a  cotton  rag  floated  for  a  wick,  stood  on  the 
floor,  surrounding  her  with  a  ruddy  halo  of  light 
shining  through  the  black  and  odorous  smoke. 
Mrs.  Almayer's  back  was  bent,  and  her  head  and 
shoulders  hidden  in  the  deep  box.  Her  hands 
rummaged  in  the  interior,  where  a  soft  clink  as  of 
silver  money  could  be  heard.  She  did  not  notice 
at  first  her  daughter's  approach,  and  Nina,  standing 
silently  by  her,  looked  down  on  many  little  canvas 
bags  ranged  in  the  bottom  of  the  chest,  wherefrora 
her  mother  extracted  handfuls  of  shining  guilders 
and  Mexican  dollars,  letting  them  stream  slowly 
back  again  through  her  claw-like  fingers.  The 
music  of  tinkling  silver  seemed  to  delight  her,  and 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  the  reflected  gleam  of  freshly- 
minted  coins.  She  was  mutterincr  to  herself :  "  And 
this,  and    this,  and    yet    this  I     Soon    he    will   give 


86  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

more  —  as  much  more  as  I  ask.  lie  is  a  great 
Rajah  —  a  Son  of  Heaven !  And  she  will  be  a 
Ranee  —  he  gave  all  this  for  her !  Who  ever  gave 
anything  for  me  ?  I  am  a  slave  !  Am  I  ?  I  am 
the  mother  of  a  great  Ranee !  "  She  became  aware 
suddenly  of  her  daughter's  presence,  and  ceased  her 
droning,  shutting  the  lid  down  violently  ;  then, 
without  rising  from  her  crouching  position,  she 
looked  up  at  the  girl  standing  by  with  a  vague 
smile  on  her  dreamy  face. 

"  You  have  seen.  Have  you  ?  "  she  shouted,  shrill}-. 
"  That  is  all  mine,  and  for  you.  It  is  not  enough ! 
He  will  have  to  give  more  before  he  takes  you  away 
to  the  southern  island  where  his  father  is  king.  You 
hear  me  ?  You  are  worth  more,  granddaughter  of 
Rajahs  !     More  !     More  !  " 

The  sleepy  voice  of  Almayer  was  heard  on  the 
verandah  recommending  silence.  Mrs.  Almayer  ex- 
tinguished the  light  and  crept  into  her  corner  of 
the  room.  Nina  lay  down  on  her  back  on  a  pile  of 
soft  mats,  her  hands  entwined  under  her  head,  gazing 
through  the  shutterless  hole  serving  as  a  window  at 
the  stars  twinkling  on  the  black  sky;  she  was  await- 
ing the  time  of  start  for  her  appointed  meeting-place. 
With  quiet  happiness  she  thought  of  that  meeting  in 
the  great  forest,  far  from  all  human  eyes  and  sounds. 
Her  soul,  lapsing  again  into  the  savage  mood,  which 
the  genius  of  civilisation  working  by  the  hand  of 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  87 

Mrs.  Vinck  could  never  destroy,  experienced  a  feel- 
ing of  pride  and  of  some  slight  trouble  at  the  high 
value  her  worldly-wise  mother  had  put  upon  her 
person ;  but  she  remembered  the  expressive  glances 
and  words  of  Dain,  and,  tranquillised,  she  closed  her 
eyes  in  a  sliiver  of  pleasant  anticipation. 

There  are  some  situations  where  the  barbarian 
and  the  so-called  civilised  man  meet  upon  the  same 
ground.  It  may  be  supposed  that  Dain  Maroola 
Avas  not  exceptionally  delighted  with  his  prospective 
mother-in-law,  nor  that  he  actually  approved  of  that 
worthy  woman's  appetite  for  shining  dollars.  Yet 
cm  that  foggy  morning  when  Babalatchi,  laying  aside 
the  cares  of  state,  went  to  visit  his  fish-baskets  in 
the  Bulangi  creek,  Maroola  had  no  misgivings,  expe- 
rienced no  feelings  but  those  of  impatience  and  long- 
ing, when  paddling  to  the  east  side  of  the  island 
forming  the  backwater  in  question.  He  liid  his 
canoe  in  the  bushes  and  strode  rapidly  across  the 
islet,  pushing  with  impatience  through  the  twigs 
of  heavy  undergrowth  intercrossed  over  his  path. 
From  motives  of  prudence  he  would  not  take  his 
canoe  to  the  meeting-place,  as  Nina  had  done.  He 
had  left  it  in  the  main  stream  till  his  return  from 
the  other  side  of  the  island.  The  heavy  warm  fog 
was  closing  rapidly  round  him,  but  he  managed  to 
catch  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  light  away  to  the  left, 
proceeding  from   Bulangi's  house.     Then  he  could 


gg  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

see  nothing  in  the  thickening  vapour,  and  kept  t^ 
the  path  only  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  which  also  led 
him  to  the  very  point  on  the  opposite  shore  he  wished 
to  reach.  A  great  log  had  stranded  there,  at  right 
angles  to  the  bank,  forming  a  kind  of  jetty  against 
which  the  swiftly  flowing  stream  broke  with  a  loud 
ripple.  He  stepped  on  it  with  a  quick  but  steady 
motion,  and  in  two  strides  found  himself  at  the 
outer  end,  with  the  rush  and  swirl  of  the  foaming 
water  at  his  feet. 

Standing  there  alone,  as  if  separated  from  the 
world;  the  heavens,  earth;  the  very  water  roaring 
under  him  swallowed  up  in  the  thick  veil  of  the 
morning  fog,  he  breathed  out  the  name  of  Nina  be- 
fore him  into  the  apparently  limitless  space,  sure 
of  being  heard,  instinctively  sure  of  the  nearness 
of  the  delightful  creature ;  certain  of  her  being 
aware  of  his  near  presence  as  he  was  aware  of  hers. 

The  bow  of  Nina's  canoe  loomed  up  close  to  the 
log,  canted  high  out  of  the  water  by  the  weight  of 
the  sitter  in  the  stern.  Maroola  laid  his  hand  on 
the  stem  and  leaped  lightly  in,  giving  it  a  vigorous 
shove  off.  The  light  craft,  obeying  the  new  impulse, 
cleared  the  log  by  a  hair's  breadth,  and  the  river, 
with  obedient  complicity,  swung  it  broadside  to  the 
current,  and  bore  it  off  silently  and  rapidly  between 
the  invisible  banks.  And  once  more  Dain,  at  the 
feet  of  Nina,  forgot  the  world,  felt  himself  carried 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  89 

away  helpless  by  a  great  wave  of  supreme  emotion, 
by  a  rush  of  joy,  pride,  and  desire  ;  understood  once 
more  with  overpowering  certitude  that  there  was  no 
life  possible  without  that  being  he  held  clasped  in  his 
arms  with  passionate  strength  in  a  prolonged  embrace. 

Nina  disengaged  herself  gently  with  a  low  laugh. 

"  You  will  overturn  the  boat,  Dain,"  she 
whispered. 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  eagerly  for  a  minute  and 
let  her  go  with  a  sigh,  then  lying  down  in  the  canoe 
he  put  his  head  on  her  knees,  gazing  upwards  and 
stretching  his  arms  backwards  till  his  hands  met 
around  the  girl's  waist.  She  bent  over  him,  and, 
shaking  her  head,  framed  both  their  faces  in  the 
falling  locks  of  her  long  black  hair. 

And  so  they  drifted  on,  he  speaking  with  all  the 
rude  eloquence  of  a  savage  nature  giving  itself  up 
without  restraint  to  an  overmastering  passion,  she 
bending  low  to  catch  the  murmur  of  words  sweeter  to 
her  than  life  itself.  To  those  two  nothing  existed  then 
outside  the  gunwales  of  the  narrow  and  fragile  craft. 
It  was  their  world,  filled  with  their  intense  and  all- 
absorbing  love.  They  took  no  heed  of  thickening 
mist,  or  of  the  breeze  dying  away  before  sun- 
rise ;  they  forgot  the  existence  of  the  great  forests 
surrounding  them,  of  all  the  tropical  nature  awaiting 
the  advent  of  the  sun  in  a  solemn  and  impressive 
silence. 


90  ALMAVER'S   FOLLY. 

Over  the  low  river-inist  hiding  the  boat  with  its 
freight  of  young  passionate  life  and  all-forgetful 
liappiness,  the  stars  paled,  and  a  silvery-grey  tint 
crept  over  the  sky  from  the  eastward.  There  was 
not  a  breath  of  wind,  not  a  rustle  of  stirring  leaf, 
not  a  splash  of  leaping  fish  to  disturb  the  serene 
repose  of  all  living  things  on  the  banks  of  the  great 
river.  Earth,  river,  and  sky  were  wrapped  up  in  a 
deep  sleep,  from  which  it  seemed  there  would  be  no 
waking.  All  the  seething  life  and  movement  of 
tropical  nature  seemed  concentrated  in  the  ardent 
eyes,  in  the  tumultuously  beating  hearts  of  the  tAvo 
beings  drifting  in  the  canoe,  under  the  white  canopy 
of  mist,  over  the  smooth  surface  of  the  river. 

Suddenly  a  great  sheaf  of  yellow  rays  shot  up- 
wards from  behind  the  black  curtain  of  trees  lining 
the  banks  of  the  Pantai.  The  stars  went  out  ;  tlie 
little  black  clouds  at  the  zenith  glowed  for  a 
moment  with  crimson  tints,  and  the  thick  mist, 
stirred  by  the  gentle  breeze,  the  sigh  of  waking- 
nature,  whirled  round  and  broke  into  fantasticall}- 
torn  pieces,  disclosing  the  wrinkled  surface  of  the 
river  sparkling  in  the  broad  light  of  day.  Great 
flocks  of  white  birds  wheeled  screaming  above  the 
swaying  tree-tops.  The  sun  had  risen  on  the  east 
coast. 

Dain  was  the  first  to  return  to  the  cares  of  every- 
day life.     He  rose  and  glanced  rapidly  up  and  down 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  9l 

the  river.  His  eye  detected  Babalatchi's  boat  astern, 
and  another  small  black  speck  on  the  glittering 
water,  which  was  Taminah's  canoe.  He  moved 
cautiously  forward,  and,  kneeling,  took  up  a  paddle  ; 
Nina  at  the  stern  took  hers.  They  bent  their  bodies 
to  the  work,  throwing  up  the  water  at  every  stroke, 
and  the  small  craft  went  swiftly  ahead,  leaving  a 
narrow  wake  fringed  with  a  lace-like  border  of 
white  and  gleaming  foam.  Without  turning  his 
head,  Dain  spoke. 

"  Somebody  behind  us,  Nina.  We  must  not  let 
him  gain.     I  think  he  is  too  far  to  recognise  us." 

"  Somebody  before  us  also,"  panted  out  Nina, 
without  ceasing  to  paddle. 

"  I  think  I  know,"  rejoined  Dain.  "  The  sun 
shines  over  there,  but  I  fancy  it  is  the  girl  Tami- 
nah.  She  comes  down  every  morning  to  my  brig 
to  sell  cakes  —  stays  often  all  day.  It  does  not 
matter ;  steer  more  into  the  bank  ;  we  must  get 
under  the  bushes.  My  canoe  is  hidden  not  far 
from  here." 

As  he  spoke,  his  eyes  watched  the  broad-leaved 
nipas  which  they  were  brushing  in  their  swift  and 
silent  course. 

"  Look  out,  Nina,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  there,  where 
the  water  palms  end  and  the  twigs  hang  down 
under  the  leaning  tree.  Steer  for  the  big  green 
branch." 


92  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

He  stood  up  attentive,  and  the  boat  drifted  slowly 
in  shore,  Nina  guiding  it  by  a  gentle  and  skilful 
movement  of  her  paddle.  When  near  enough  Dain 
laid  hold  of  the  big  branch,  and  leaning  back  shot 
the  canoe  under  a  low  green  archway  of  thickly 
matted  creepers,  giving  access  to  a  miniature  bay 
formed  by  the  caving  in  of  the  bank  during  the 
last  great  flood.  His  own  boat  was  there  anchored 
by  a  stone,  and  he  stepped  into  it,  keeping  his  hand 
on  the  gunwale  of  Nina's  canoe.  In  a  moment  the 
two  little  nutshells  with  their  occupants  floated 
quietly  side  by  side,  reflected  by  the  black  water 
in  the  dim  light  struggling  through  a  high  canopy 
of  dense  foliage  ;  while  above,  away  up  in  the  broad 
day,  flamed  immense  red  blossoms  sending  down  on 
their  heads  a  shower  of  great  dew-sparkling  petals 
that  descended  rotating  slowly  in  a  continuous  and 
perfumed  stream ;  and  over  them,  under  them,  in 
the  sleeping  water,  all  around  them  in  a  ring  of 
luxuriant  vegetation  bathed  in  the  warm  air  charged 
with  strong  and  harsh  perfumes,  the  intense  work 
of  tropical  nature  went  on  :  plants  shooting  up- 
ward, entwined,  interlaced  in  inextricable  confusion, 
climbing  madly  and  brutally  over  each  other  in  the 
terrible  silence  of  a  desperate  struggle  towards  the 
life-giving  sunshine  above,  as  if  struck  with  sudden 
horror  at  the  seething  mass  of  corruption  below, 
at  the  death  and  deca}'  from  which  they  sprang. 


ALMAYER'S    KOLLY.  93 

"We  must  part  now,"  said  Dain,  after  a  long 
silence.  "  You  must  return  at  once,  Nina.  I  will 
wait  till  the  brig  drifts  down  here,  and  shall  get 
on  board  then." 

"And  will  you  be  long  away,  Dain?  "  asked  Nina, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Long  ! "  exclaimed  Dain.  "  Would  a  man  will- 
ingly remain  long  in  a  dark  place  ?  When  I  am 
not  near  you,  Nina,  I  am  like  a  man  that  is  blind. 
What  is  life  to  me  without  light  !  " 

Nina  leaned  over,  and  with  a  proud  and  happy 
smile  took  Dain's  face  between  her  hands,  looking 
into  his  eyes  with  a  fond  yet  questioning  gaze. 
Apparently  she  found  there  the  confirmation  of 
the  words  just  said,  for  a  feeling  of  grateful  secur- 
ity lightened  for  her  the  weight  of  sorrow  at  the 
hour  of  parting.  She  believed  that  he,  the  descend- 
ant of  many  great  Rajahs,  the  son  of  a  great  chief, 
the  master  of  life  and  death,  knew  the  sunshine  of 
life  only  in  her  presence.  An  immense  wave  of 
gratitude  and  love  welled  forth  out  of  her  heart 
towards  him.  How  could  she  make  an  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  all  she  felt  for  the  man  who  had  filled 
her  heart  with  so  much  joy  and  so  much  pride  ?  And 
in  the  great  tumult  of  passion,  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning came  to  her  the  reminiscence  of  that  despised 
and  almost  forgotten  civilisation  she  had  only  glanced 
at  in  her  days  of  restraint,  of  sorrow,  and  of  anger. 


94  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

In  the  cold  ashes  of  that  hateful  and  miserable  past 
she  would  find  the  sign  of  love,  the  fitting  expres- 
sion of  the  boundless  felicity  of  the  present,  the 
pledge  of  a  bright  and  splendid  future.  She  threw 
her  arms  around  Dain's  neck  and  pressed  her  lips 
to  his  in  a  long  and  burning  kiss.  He  closed  his 
eyes,  surprised  and  frightened  at  the  storm  raised 
in  his  breast  by  the  strange  and  to  him  hitherto 
unknown  contact,  and  long  after  Nina  had  pushed 
her  canoe  into  the  river  he  remained  motionless, 
without  daring  to  open  his  eyes,  afraid  to  lose  the 
sensation  of  intoxicating  delight  he  had  tasted  for 
the  first  time. 

Now  he  wanted  but  immortality,  he  thought,  to 
be  the  equal  of  gods,  and  the  creature  that  could 
open  so  the  gates  of  paradise  must  be  his  —  soon 
Avould  be  his  for  ever  ! 

He  opened  his  eyes  in  time  to  see  through  the 
archway  of  creepers  the  bows  of  his  brig  come 
slowly  into  view,  as  the  vessel  drifted  past  on  its 
way  down  the  river.  He  must  go  on  board  now, 
he  thought ;  yet  he  was  loth  to  leave  the  place 
where  he  had  learned  to  know  what  happiness 
meant.  "  Time  yet.  Let  them  go,"  he  muttered 
to  himself;  and  he  closed  his  eyes  again  under  the 
red  shower  of  scented  petals,  trying  to  recall  the 
scene  with  all  its  delight  and  all  its  fear. 

He  must  have  been  able  to  join  his  brig  in  time, 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  96 

after  all,  and  found  much  occupation  outside,  for 
it  was  in  vain  that  Almayer  looked  for  his  friend's 
speedy  return.  The  lower  reach  of  the  river  where 
he  so  often  and  so  impatiently  directed  his  eyes 
remained  deserted,  save  for  the  rapid  flitting  of 
some  fishing  canoe  ;  but  down  the  upper  reaches 
came  black  clouds  and  heavy  showers  heralding 
the  final  setting  in  of  tlie  rainy  season  with  its 
thunder-storms  and  great  floods  making  the  river 
almost  impossible  of  ascent  for  native  canoes. 

Almayer,  strolling  along  the  muddy  beach  be- 
tween his  houses,  watched  uneasily  the  river  rising 
inch  by  inch,  creeping  slowly  nearer  to  the  boats, 
now  ready  and  hauled  up  in  a  row  under  the 
cover  of  dripping  Kajang-mats.  Fortune  seemed 
to  elude  his  grasp,  and  in  his  weary  tramp  back- 
wards and  forwards  under  the  steady  rain  falling 
from  the  lowering  sky,  a  sort  of  despairing  in- 
difference took  possession  of  him.  What  did  it 
matter?  It  was  just  his  luck!  Those  two  infernal 
savages,  Lakamba  and  Dain,  induced  him,  with  their 
promises  of  help,  to  spend  his  last  dollar  in  the 
fitting  out  of  boats,  and  now  one  of  them  was  gone 
somewhere,  and  the  other  shut  up  in  his  stockade 
would  give  no  sign  of  life.  No,  not  even  the 
scoundrelly  Babalatchi,  thought  Almayer,  would 
show  his  face  near  him,  now  they  had  sold  him 
all   the   rice,  brass  gongs,   and  cloth  necessary  for 


96  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

his  expedition.  They  had  his  very  last  coin,  and 
did  not  care  whether  he  went  or  stayed.  And  with 
a  gesture  of  abandoned  discouragement  Almayer 
would  climb  up  slowly  to  the  verandah  of  his  new 
house  to  get  out  of  the  rain,  and  leaning  on  the 
front  rail  with  his  head  sunk  between  his  shoulders 
he  would  abandon  himself  to  the  current  of  bitter 
thoughts,  oblivious  of  the  flight  of  time  and  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  deaf  to  the  shrill  cries  of  his 
wife  calling  him  to  the  evening  meal.  When, 
roused  from  his  sad  meditations  by  the  first  roll 
of  the  evening  thunder-storm,  he  stumbled  slowly 
towards  the  glimmering  light  of  his  old  house,  his 
half-dead  hope  made  his  ears  preternaturally  acute 
to  any  sound  on  the  river.  Several  nights  in  suc- 
cession he  had  heard  the  splash  of  paddles  and  had 
seen  the  indistinct  form  of  a  boat,  but  when  hailing 
the  shadowy  apparition,  his  heart  bo^lnding  with 
sudden  hope  of  hearing  Dain's  voice,  he  was  dis- 
appointed each  time  by  the  sulky  answer  conveying 
to  him  the  intelligence  that  the  Arabs  were  on 
the  river,  bound  on  a  visit  to  the  home-staying 
Lakamba.  This  caused  him  many  sleepless  nights, 
spent  in  speculating  upon  the  kind  of  villainy  those 
estimable  personages  were  hatching  now.  At  last, 
when  all  hope  seemed  dead,  he  was  overjoyed  on 
hearing  Dain's  voice  ;  but  Dain  also  appeared  very 
anxious  to  see  Lakamba,  and  Almayer  felt  uneaar 


ALMAYER'S  FOLLY.  97 

owing  to  a  deep  and  ineradicable  distrust  as  to 
that  ruler's  disposition  towards  himself.  Still, 
Dain  had  returned  at  last.  Evidently,  he  meant 
to  keep  to  his  bargain.  Hope  revived,  and  that  night 
Almayer  slept  soundly,  while  Nina  watched  the 
angry  river  under  the  lash  of  the  thunder-storm 
sweeping  onward  towards  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Dain  was  not  long  in  crossing  the  river  after 
leaving  Almayer.  He  landed  at  the  water-gate  of 
the  stockade  enclosing  the  group  of  houses  which 
composed  the  residence  of  the  Rajah  of  Sambir. 
Evidently  somebody  was  expected  there,  for  the 
gate  was  open,  and  men  with  torches  were  ready  to 
precede  the  visitor  up  the  inclined  plane  of  planks 
leading  to  the  largest  house,  where  Lakamba  actu- 
ally resided,  and  where  all  the  business  of  state  was 
invariably  transacted.  The  other  buildings  within 
the  enclosure  served  only  to  accommodate  the  numer- 
ous household  and  the  wives  of  the  ruler. 

Lakamba 's  own  house  was  a  strong  structure  of 
solid  planks,  raised  on  high  piles,  with  a  verandah 
of  split  bamboos  surrounding  it  on  all  sides;  the 
whole  was  covered  in  by  an  immensely  high-pitched 
roof  of  palm-leaves,  resting  on  beams  blackened  by 
the  smoke  of  many  torches. 

The  building  stood  parallel  to  the  river,  one  of  its 
long  sides  facing  the  water-gate  of  the  stockade. 
There  was  a  door  in  the  short  side  looking  up  the 
river,  and  the  inclined  plank-way  led  straight  from 

98 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  99 

the  gate  to  that  door.  By  the  uncertain  light  of 
smoky  torches,  Dain  noticed  the  vague  outlines  of  a 
group  of  armed  men  in  the  dark  shadows  to  his 
right.  From  that  group  Babalatchi  stepped  forward 
to  open  the  door,  and  Dain  entered  the  audience 
chamber  of  the  Rajah's  residence.  About  one-third 
of  the  house  was  curtained  off  by  heavy  stuff  of 
European  manufacture  for  tliat  purpose;  close  to  the 
curtain  there  was  a  big  armchair  of  some  black  wood, 
much  carved,  and  before  it  a  rough  deal  table. 
Otherwise,  the  room  was  only  furnished  with  mats 
in  great  profusion.  To  the  left  of  the  entrance 
stood  a  rude  arm-rack,  with  three  rifles  with  fixed 
bayonets  in  it.  By  the  wall,  in  the  shadow,  the 
body-guard  of  Lakamba  —  all  friends  or  relations  — 
slept  in  a  confused  heap  of  browned  arms,  legs,  and 
multi-coloured  garments,  from  whence  issued  an  occa- 
sional snore  or  a  subdued  groan  of  some  uneasy 
sleeper.  An  European  lamp  with  a  green  shade, 
standing  on  the  table,  made  all  this  indistinctly 
visible  to  Dain. 

"You  are  welcome  to  your  rest  here,"  said  Baba- 
latchi, looking  at  Dain  interrogatively. 

"I  must  speak  to  the  Rajah  at  once,"  answered 
Dain. 

Babalatchi  made  a  gesture  of  assent,  and,  turning 
to  the  brass  gong  suspended  under  the  arm-rack, 
struck  two  sharp  blows. 


100  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

The  ear-splitting  din  woke  up  the  guard.  The 
snores  ceased;  outstretched  legs  were  drawn  in; 
the  whole  heap  moved,  and  slowly  resolved  itself 
into  individual  forms,  with  much  yawning  and  rub- 
bing of  sleepy  eyes ;  behind  the  curtains  there  was 
a  burst  of  feminine  chatter;  then  the  bass  voice  of 
Lakamba  was  heard. 

"Is  that  the  Arab  trader?" 

"No,  Tuan,"  answered  Babalatchi;  "Dain  has 
returned  at  last.  He  is  here  for  an  important  talk, 
bitcharra  —  if  you  mercifully  consent." 

Evidently  Lakamba's  mercy  went  so  far  —  for  in  a 
short  while  he  came  out  from  behind  the  curtain  — 
but  it  did  not  go  to  the  length  of  inducing  him  to 
make  an  extensive  toilet.  A  short  red  sarong  tight- 
ened hastily  round  his  hips  was  his  only  garment. 
The  merciful  ruler  of  Sambir  looked  sleepy  and 
rather  sulky.  He  sat  in  the  armchair,  his  knees 
well  apart,  his  elbows  on  the  armrests,  his  chin  on 
his  breast,  breathing  heavily  and  waiting  malevo- 
lently for  Dain  to  open  the  important  talk. 

But  Dain  did  not  seem  anxious  to  begin.  He 
directed  his  gaze  towards  Babalatchi,  squatting 
comfortably  at  the  feet  of  his  master,  and  remained 
silent,  with  a  slightly  bent  head  as  if  in  attentive 
expectation  of  coming  words  of  wisdom. 

Babalatchi  coughed  discreetly,  and,  leaning  for- 
ward, pushed  over  a  few  mats  for  Dain  to  sit  upon. 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  101 

then  lifting  up  his  squeaky  voice  he  assured  him 
with  eager  volubility  of  everybody's  delight  at  this 
long-looked-for  return.  His  heart  had  hungered  for 
the  sight  of  Dain's  face,  and  his  ears  were  withering 
for  the  want  of  the  refreshing  sound  of  his  voice. 
Everybody's  hearts  and  ears  were  in  the  same  sad 
predicament,  according  to  Babalatchi,  as  he  indi- 
cated with  a  sweeping  gesture  the  other  bank  of  the 
river,  where  the  settlement  slumbered  peacefully, 
unconscious  of  the  great  joy  awaiting  it  on  the 
morrow  when  Dain's  presence  amongst  them  would 
be  disclosed.  "  For  "  —  went  on  Babalatchi  —  "  what 
is  the  joy  of  a  poor  man  if  not  the  open  hand  of  a 

generous  trader  or  of  a  great " 

Here  he  checked  himself  abruptly  with  a  calcu- 
lated embarrassment  of  manner,  and  his  roving  eye 
sought  the  floor,  while  an  apologetic  smile  dwelt 
for  a  moment  on  his  misshapen  lips.  Once  or  twice 
during  this  opening  speech  an  amused  expression 
flitted  across  Dain's  face,  soon  to  give  way,  how- 
ever, to  an  appearance  of  grave  concern.  On  La- 
kamba's  brow  a  heavy  frown  had  settled,  and  his 
lips  moved  angrily  as  he  listened  to  his  Prime  Min- 
ister's oratory.  In  the  silence  that  fell  upon  the 
room  when  Babalatchi  ceased  speaking  arose  a  chorus 
of  varied  snores  from  the  corner,  where  the  body- 
guard had  resumed  their  interrupted  slumbers,  but 
the  distant  rumble  of  thunder  filling  then  Nina's 


102  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

heart  with  apprehension  for  the  safety  of  her  lover 
passed  unheeded  by  those  three  men  intent  each  on 
their  own  purposes,  for  life  or  death. 

After  a  short  silence,  Babalatchi,  discarding  now 
the  flowers  of  polite  eloquence,  spoke  again,  but  in 
short  and  hurried  sentences  and  in  a  low  voice. 
They  had  been  very  uneasy.  Why  did  Dain  remain 
so  long  absent?  The  men  dwelling  on  the  lower 
reaches  of  the  river  heard  the  reports  of  big  guns 
and  saw  a  fire-ship  of  the  Dutch  amongst  the  islands 
of  the  estuary.  So  they  were  anxious.  Rumours 
of  a  disaster  had  reached  Abdulla  a  few  days  ago, 
and  since  then  they  had  been  waiting  for  Dain's 
return  under  the  apprehension  of  some  misfortune. 
For  days  they  had  closed  their  eyes  in  fear,  and 
woke  up  alarmed,  and  walked  abroad  trembling,  like 
men  before  an  enemy.  And  all  on  account  of  Dain. 
Would  he  not  allay  their  fears  for  his  safety,  not  for 
themselves?  They  were  quiet  and  faithful,  and 
devoted  to  the  great  Rajah  in  Batavia  —  may  his 
fate  lead  him  ever  to  victory  for  the  joy  and  profit 
of  his  servants!  "And  here,"  went  on  Babalatchi, 
"  Lakamba  my  master  was  getting  thin  in  his  anxi- 
ety for  the  trader  he  had  taken  under  his  protection ; 
and  so  was  Abdulla,  for  what  would  wicked  men  not 
say  if  perchance " 

"Be  silent,  fool !  "  growled  Lakamba,  angrily. 

Babalatchi  subsided  into  silence  with  a  satisfied 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  103 

smile,  while  Dain,  who  had  been  watching  him  as 
if  fascinated,  turned  with  a  sigh  of  relief  towards 
the  ruler  of  Sambir.  Lakamba  did  not  move,  and, 
without  raising  his  head,  looked  at  Dain  from  under 
his  eyebrows,  breathing  audibly,  with  pouted  lips, 
in  an  air  of  general  discontent. 

"Speak  I  O  Dain  I''  he  said  at  last.  "We  have 
heard  many  rumours.  Many  nights  in  succession 
has  my  friend  Reshid  come  here  with  bad  tidings. 
News  travels  fast  along  the  coast.  But  they  may  be 
untrue;  there  are  more  lies  in  men's  mouths  in  these 
days  than  when  I  was  young,  but  I  am  not  easier 
to  deceive  now." 

"All  my  words  are  true,"  said  Dain,  carelessly. 
"If  you  want  to  know  Avhat  befell  my  brig,  then 
learn  that  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Dutch.  Believe 
me,  Rajah,"  he  went  on,  with  sudden  energy,  "the 
Orang  Blanda  have  good  friends  in  Sambir,  or  else 
liow  did  they  know  I  w^as  coming  thence?" 

Lakamba  gave  Dain  a  short  and  malevolent 
glance.  Babalatchi  rose  quietly,  and,  going  to  the 
arm-rack,  struck  the  gong  violently. 

Outside  the  door  there  was  a  shuffle  of  bare  feet ; 
inside,  the  guard  woke  up  and  sat  staring  in  sleepy 
surprise. 

"Yes,  you  faithful  friend  of  the  white  Rajah," 
went  on  Dain,  scornfully,  turning  to  Babalatchi, 
who  had  returned  to  his  place,  "  I  have  escaped,  and 


104  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

1  am  here  to  gladden  your  heart.  When  I  saw  the 
Dutch  ship  I  ran  the  brig  inside  the  reefs  and  put 
her  ashore.  They  did  not  dare  to  follow  with  the 
ship,  so  they  sent  the  boats.  We  took  to  ours  and 
tried  to  get  away,  but  the  ship  dropped  fireballs  at 
us,  and  killed  many  of  my  men.  But  I  am  left,  O 
Babalatchi!  The  Dutch  are  coming  here.  They 
are  seeking  for  me.  They  are  coming  to  ask  their 
faithful  friend  Lakamba  and  his  slave  Babalatchi. 
Rejoice!  " 

But  neither  of  his  hearers  appeared  to  be  in  a 
joyful  mood.  Lakamba  had  put  one  leg  over  his 
knee,  and  went  on  gently  scratching  it  with  a  medi- 
tative air,  while  Babalatchi,  sitting  cross-legged, 
seemed  suddenly  to  become  smaller  and  very  limp, 
staring  straight  before  him  vacantly.  The  guard 
evinced  some  interest  in  the  proceedings,  stretching 
themselves  full  length  on  the  mats  to  be  nearer  the 
speaker.  One  of  them  got  up  and  now  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  arm-rack,  playing  absently  with  the 
fringes  of  his  sword-hilt. 

Dain  waited  till  the  crash  of  thunder  had  died 
away  in  distant  mutterings  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Are  you  dumb,  O  ruler  of  Sambir,  or  is  the  son 
of  a  great  Rajah  unworthy  of  your  notice?  I  am 
come  here  to  seek  refuge  and  to  warn  you,  and  want 
to  know  what  you  intend  doing." 

"You   came   here   because    of    the   white    man's 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  106 

daughter,"  retorted  Lakamba,  quickly.  "Your  ref- 
uge was  with  your  father,  the  Rajah  of  Bali,  the 
Son  of  Heaven,  the  'Anak  Agong '  himself.  What 
am  I,  to  protect  great  princes?  Only  yesterday  I 
planted  rice  in  a  burnt  clearing;  to-day  you  say 
I  hold  your  life  in  my  hand." 

Babalatchi  glanced  at  his  master.  "  No  man  can 
escape  his  fate,"  he  murmured  piously.  "  When 
love  enters  a  man's  heart  he  is  like  a  child  —  with- 
out any  understanding.  Be  merciful,  Lakamba,"  he 
added,  twitching  the  corner  of  the  Rajah's  sarong 
warningly. 

Lakamba  snatched  away  the  skirt  of  the  sarong 
angrily.  Under  the  dawning  comprehension  of 
intolerable  embarrassments  caused  by  Dain's  return 
to  Sambir  he  began  to  lose  such  composure  as  he  had 
been,  till  then,  able  to  maintain;  and  now  he  raised 
his  voice  loudly  above  the  whistling  of  the  wind 
and  the  patter  of  rain  on  the  roof  in  the  hard  squall 
passing  over  the  house. 

"You  came  here  first  as  a  trader,  with  sweet  words 
and  great  promises,  asking  me  to  look  the  other  way 
while  you  worked  you^  will  on  the  white  man  there,. 
And  I  did.  What  do  you  want  now?  When  I  was 
young  I  fought.  Now  I  am  old,  and  want  peace. 
It  is  easier  for  me  to  have  you  killed  than  to  fight 
the  Dutch.     It  is  better  for  me." 

The  squall  had  now  passed,  and,  in  the  short  still- 


lOr,  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

ness  of  the  lull  in  the  storm,  Lakamba  repeated 
softly,  as  if  to  himself,  "Much  easier.  Much 
better." 

Dain  did  not  seem  greatly  discomposed  by  the 
Rajah's  threatening  words.  While  Lakamba  was 
speaking  he  had  glanced  once  rapidly  over  his  shoul- 
der, just  to  make  sure  that  there  was  nobody  behind 
him,  and,  tranquillised  in  that  respect,  he  had 
extracted  a  siri-box  out  of  the  folds  of  his  waist- 
cloth,  and  was  wrapping  carefully  the  little  bit  of 
betel-nut  and  a  small  pinch  of  lime  in  the  green  leaf 
tendered  him  politely  by  the  watchful  Babalatchi. 
He  accepted  this  as  a  peace-offering  from  the  silent 
statesman  —  a  kind  of  mute  protest  against  his  mas- 
ter's undiplomatic  violence,  and  as  an  omen  of  a 
possible  understanding  to  be  arrived  at  yet.  Other- 
wise Dain  was  not  uneasy.  Although  recognising 
the  justice  of  Lakamba's  surmise  that  he  had  come 
back  to  Sambir  only  for  the  sake  of  the  white  man's 
daughter,  yet  he  was  not  conscious  of  any  childish 
lack  of  understanding,  as  suggested  by  Babalatchi. 
In  fact,  Dain  knew  very  well  that  Lakamba  was  too 
deeply  implicated  in  the  gunpowder  smuggling  to 
care  for  an  investigation  by  the  Dutch  authorities 
into  that  matter.  Wlien  sent  off  by  his  father,  the 
independent  Rajah  of  Bali,  at  the  time  when  the 
hostilities  between  Dutch  and  Malays  threatened  to 
spread   from   Sumatra   over  the  whole  archipelago, 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  107 

Dain  had  found  all  the  big  traders  deaf  to  his 
guarded  proposals,  and  above  the  temptation  of  the 
great  prices  he  was  ready  to  give  for  gunpowder. 
He  went  to  Sanibir  as  a  last  and  almost  hopeless 
resort,  having  heard  in  Macassar  of  the  white  man 
there,  and  of  the  regular  steamer  trading  from  Singa- 
pore —  allured  also  by  the  fact  that  there  Mas  no 
Dutch  resident  on  the  river,  which  would  make 
things  easier,  no  doubt.  His  hopes  got  nearly 
wrecked  against  the  stubborn  loyalty  of  Lakamba, 
arising  from  well-understood  self-interest;  but  at 
last  the  young  man's  generosity,  his  persuasive 
enthusiasm,  the  prestige  of  his  father's  great  name, 
overpowered  the  prudent  hesitation  of  the  ruler  of 
Sambir.  Lakamba  would  have  nothing  to  do  him- 
self with  any  illegal  traffic.  He  also  objected  to  the 
Arabs  being  made  use  of  in  that  matter;  but  he 
suggested  Almayer,  saying  that  he  was  a  weak  man 
easily  persuaded,  and  that  his  friend,  the  English 
captain  of  the  steamer,  could  be  made  very  useful  — 
very  likely  even  would  join  in  the  business,  smug- 
gling the  powder  in  the  steamer  without  Abdulla's 
knowledge.  There  again  Dain  met  in  Almayer 
with  unexpected  resistance ;  Lakamba  had  to  send 
Babalatchi  over  with  the  solemn  promise  that  his 
eyes  would  be  shut  in  friendship  for  the  white  man, 
Dain  paying  for  the  promise  and  the  friendship  in 
good   silver  guilders   of   the  hated  Orang  Blanda. 


108  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

Almayer,  at  last  consenting,  said  the  powder  would 
be  obtained,  but  Dain  must  trust  him  with  dollars 
to  send  to  Singapore  in  payment  for  it.  He  would 
induce  Ford  to  buy  and  smuggle  it  in  the  steamer 
on  board  the  brig.  He  did  not  want  any  money  for 
himself  out  of  the  transaction,  but  Dain  must  help 
him  in  his  great  enterprise  after  sending  off  the 
brig.  Almayer  had  explained  to  Dain  that  he  could 
not  trust  Lakamba  alone  in  that  matter ;  he  would 
be  afraid  of  losing  his  treasure  and  his  life  through  the 
cupidity  of  the  Rajah ;  yet  the  Rajah  had  to  be  told, 
and  insisted  in  taking  a  share  in  that  operation,  or  else 
his  eyes  would  remain  shut  no  longer.  To  this  Alma- 
yer had  to  submit.  Had  Dain  not  seen  Nina  he  would 
have  probably  refused  to  engage  himself  and  his  men 
in  the  projected  expedition  to  Gunong  Mas  —  the 
mountain  of  gold.  As  it  was,  he  intended  to  return 
with  half  of  his  men  as  soon  as  the  brig  was  clear  of 
the  reefs,  but  the  persistent  chase  given  him  by  the 
Dutch  frigate  had  forced  him  to  run  south,  and 
ultimately  to  wreck  and  destroy  his  vessel  in  order 
to  preserve  his  liberty  or  perhaps  even  his  life.  Yes, 
he  had  come  back  to  Sambir  for  Nina,  although 
aware  that  the  Dutch  would  look  for  him  there,  but 
he  also  calculated  his  chances  of  safety  in  Lakam- 
ba's  hands.  For  all  his  ferocious  talk,  the  merciful 
ruler  would  not  kill  him,  for  he  had  long  ago  been 
impressed  with  the  notion  that  Dain  possessed  the 


ALM AVER'S    FOLLY.  109 

secret  of  the  white  man's  treasure;  neither  would 
he  give  him  up  to  the  Dutch,  for  fear  of  some  fatal 
disclosure  of  complicity  in  the  treasonable  trade. 
So  Dain  felt  tolerably  secure  as  he  sat  meditating 
quietly  his  answer  to  the  Rajah's  bloodthirsty 
speech.  Yes,  he  would  point  out  to  him  the  aspect 
of  his  position  should  he  —  Dain  —  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  Dutch  and  should  he  speak  the  truth. 
He  would  have  nothing  more  to  lose  then,  and  he 
would  speak  the  truth.  And  if  he  did  return  to 
Sambir,  disturbing  thereby  Lakamba's  peace  of  mind, 
what  then?  He  came  to  look  after  his  property. 
Did  he  not  pour  a  stream  of  silver  into  Mrs.  Alma- 
yer's  greedy  lap  ?  He  had  paid,  for  the  girl,  a  price 
worthy  of  a  great  prince,  although  unworthy  of  that 
delightfully  maddening  creature  for  whom  his  un- 
tamed soul  longed  in  an  intensity  of  desire  far  more 
tormenting  than  the  sharpest  pain.  He  wanted  his 
happiness.     He  had  the  right  to  be  in  Sambir. 

He  rose,  and,  approaching  the  table,  leaned  both 
his  elbows  on  it;  Lakamba  responsively  edged  his 
seat  a  little  closer,  while  Babalatchi  scrambled  to 
his  feet  and  thrust  his  inquisitive  head  between  his 
master's  and  Dain's.  They  interchanged  their  ideas 
rapidly,  speaking  in  whispers  into  each  other's  faces, 
very  close  now,  Dain  suggesting,  Lakamba  contra- 
dicting, Babalatchi  conciliating  and  anxious  in  his 
vivid  apprehension  of  coming  difficulties.     He  spoke 


110  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

most,  whispering  earnestly,  turning  his  head  slowly 
from  side  to  side,  so  as  to  bring  his  solitary  eye  to 
bear  upon  each  of  his  interlocutors  in  turn.  Why 
should  there  be  strife?  said  he.  Let  Tuan  Dain, 
whom  he  loved  only  less  than  his  master,  go  trust- 
fully into  hiding.  There  were  many  places  for  that. 
Bulangi's  house  away  in  the  clearing  was  best. 
Bulangi  was  a  safe  man.  In  the  network  of  crooked 
channels  no  white  man  could  find  his  way.  White 
men  were  strong,  but  very  foolish.  It  was  unde- 
sirable to  fight  them,  but  deception  was  easy.  They 
Avere  like  silly  women  —  they  did  not  know  the  use  of 
reason,  and  he  was  a  match  for  any  of  them  —  went 
on  Babalatchi,  with  all  the  confidence  of  deficient 
experience.  Probably  the  Dutch  would  seek  Alma- 
yer.  Maybe  they  would  take  away  their  countryman 
if  he  was  suspicious  to  them.  That  would  be  good. 
After  the  Dutch  went  away  Lakamba  and  Dain 
would  get  the  treasure  without  any  trouble,  and 
there  would  be  one  person  less  to  share  it.  Did  he 
not  speak  wisdom?  Will  Tuan  Dain  go  to  Bu- 
langi's house  till  the  danger  is  over?  Go  at  once. 
Dain  accepted  this  suggestion  of  going  into  hiding 
Avith  a  certain  sense  of  conferring  a  favour  upon 
Lakamba  and  the  anxious  statesman,  but  he  met  the 
proposal  of  going  at  once  with  a  decided  no,  looking 
Babalatchi  meaningly  in  the  eye.  The  statesman 
sighed,  as  a  man  accepting  the  inevitable  would  do, 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  Ill 

and  pointed  silently  towards  the  other  bank  of  the 
river.     Dain  bent  his  head  slowly. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  there,"  he  said. 

"Before  the  day  comes?"  asked  Babalatchi. 

"I  am  going  there  now,"  answered  Dain,  deci- 
sively. "  The  Orang  Blanda  will  not  be  here  before 
to-morrow  night,  perhaps,  and  I  must  tell  Almayer 
of  our  arrangements." 

"  No,  Tuan.  No ;  say  nothing, "  protested  Baba- 
latchi. "I  will  go  over  myself  at  sunrise  and  let 
him  know." 

"I  will  see,"  said  Dain,  preparing  to  go. 

The  thunder-storm  was  recommencing  outside,  the 
heavy  clouds  hanging  low  overhead  now.  There 
was  a  constant  rumble  of  distant  thunder  punctuated 
by  the  nearer  sharp  crashes,  and  in  the  continuous 
play  of  blue  lightning  the  woods  and  the  river 
showed  fitfully,  with  all  the  elusive  distinctness  of 
detail  characteristic  of  such  a  scene.  Outside  the 
door  of  the  Rajah's  house  Dain  and  Babalatchi  stood 
on  the  shaking  verandah  as  if  dazed  and  stunned 
by  the  violence  of  the  storm.  They  stood  there 
amongst  the  cowering  forms  of  the  Rajah's  slaves 
and  retainers  seeking  shelter  from  the  rain,  and 
Dain  called  aloud  to  his  boatmen,  who  responded 
with  an  unanimous  "Ada!  Tuan!"  while  the}- 
looked  apprehensively  at  the  river. 

"This  is  a  great  flood!"  shouted  Babalatchi  into 


112  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

Dain's    ear.       "The    river   is    very   angry.       Look  I 
Look  at  the  drifting  logs!     Can  you  go?" 

Dain  glanced  doubtfully  on  the  livid  expanse  of 
seething  water  bounded  far  away  on  the  other  side 
by  the  narrow  black  line  of  the  forests.  Suddenly, 
in  a  vivid  white  flash,  the  low  point  of  land  with 
the  bending  trees  on  it  and  Alraayer's  house  leaped 
into  view,  flickered  and  disappeared.  Dain  pushed 
Babalatchi  aside  and  ran  down  to  the  water-gate, 
followed  by  his  shivering  boatmen. 

Babalatchi  backed  slowly  in  and  closed  the  door, 
then  turned  round  and  looked  silently  upon  La- 
kamba.  The  Rajah  sat  still,  glaring  stonily  upon 
the  table,  and  Babalatchi  gazed  curiously  at  the  per- 
plexed mood  of  the  man  he  had  served  so  many  years 
through  good  and  evil  fortune.  No  doubt  the  one- 
eyed  statesman  felt  within  his  savage  and  much 
sophisticated  breast  the  unwonted  feelings  of  sym- 
pathy with,  and  perhaps  even  pity  for,  the  man  he 
called  his  master.  From  the  safe  position  of  a 
confidential  adviser,  he  could,  in  the  dim  vista  of 
past  years,  see  himself  a  casual  cut-throat,  finding 
shelter  under  that  man's  roof  in  the  modest  rice- 
clearing  of  early  beginnings.  Then  came  a  long 
period  of  unbroken  success,  of  wise  counsels,  and 
deep  plottings  resolutely  carried  out  by  the  fearless 
Lakamba,  till  the  whole  east  coast  from  Poulo  Laut 
to  Tanjong  Batu  listened  to  Babalatchi 's  wisdom, 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  113 

speaking  through  the  mouth  of  the  ruler  of  Sambir. 
In  those  long  years  how  many  dangers  escaped,  how 
many  enemies  bravely  faced,  how  many  white  men 
successfully  circumvented !  And  now  he  looked 
upon  the  result  of  so  many  years  of  patient  toil:  the 
fearless  Lakamba  cowed  by  the  shadow  of  an  im- 
pending trouble.  The  ruler  was  growing  old,  and 
Babalatchi,  aware  of  an  uneasy  feeling  at  the  pit  of 
his  stomach,  put  both  his  hands  there  with  a  sud- 
denly vivid  and  sad  perception  of  the  fact  that  he 
himself  was  gowing  old,  too;  that  the  time  of  reck- 
less daring  was  past  for  both  of  them,  and  that  they 
had  to  seek  refuge  in  prudent  cunning.  They 
wanted  peace;  they  were  disposed  to  reform;  they 
were  ready  even  to  retrench,  so  as  to  have  the 
wherewithal  to  bribe  the  evil  days  away,  if  bribed 
away  they  could  be.  Babalatchi  sighed  for  the 
second  time  that  night  as  he  squatted  again  at  his 
master's  feet  and  tendered  him  his  betel-nut  box  in 
mute  sympathy.  And  they  sat  there  in  close  yet 
silent  communion  of  betel-nut  chewers,  moving  their 
jaws  slowly,  expectorating  decorously  into  the  wide- 
mouthed  brass  vessel  they  passed  to  one  another, 
and  listening  to  the  awful  din  of  the  battling  ele- 
ments outside. 

"There    is    a   very  great   flood,"  remarked    Baba- 
latchi, sadly. 

"  Yes, "  said  Lakamba.     "  Did  Dain  go  ?  " 


114  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

"  He  went,  Tuan.  He  ran  down  to  the  river  like 
a  man  possessed  of  the  Sheitan  himself." 

There  was  another  long  pause. 

"He  may  get  drowned,"  suggested  Lakamba  at 
last,  with  some  show  of  interest. 

"The  floating  logs  are  many,"  answered  Baba- 
latchi;  "but  he  is  a  good  swimmer,"  he  added  lan- 
guidly. 

"He  ought  to  live,"  said  Lakamba;  "he  knows 
where  the  treasure  is." 

Babalatchi  assented  with  an  ill-humoured  grunt. 
His  want  of  success  in  penetrating  the  white  man's 
secret  as  to  the  locality  where  the  gold  was  to  be 
found  was  a  sore  point  with  the  statesman  of  Sam- 
bir,  as  the  only  conspicuous  failure  in  an  otherwise 
brilliant  career. 

A  great  peace  had  now  succeeded  the  turmoil  of 
the  storm.  Only  the  little  belated  clouds,  which 
hurried  past  overhead  to  catch  up  the  main  body 
flashing  silently  in  the  distance,  sent  down  short 
showers  that  pattered  softly  with  a  soothing  hiss 
over  the  palm-leaf  roof. 

Lakamba  roused  himself  from  his  apathy  with  an 
appearance  of  having  grasped  the  situation  at  last. 

"Babalatchi,"  he  called  briskly,  giving  him  a 
slight  kick. 

"Ada  Tuan!     I  am  listening." 

"If  the  Orang  Blanda  come  here,  Babalatchi,  and 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  115 

take  Almayer  to  Batavia  to  punish  him  for  smug- 
gling gunpowder,  what  will  he  do,  you  think?" 

"I  do  not  know,   Tuan." 

"You  are  a  fool,"  commented  Lakamba,  exult- 
ingly.  "  He  will  tell  them  where  the  treasure  is,  so 
as  to  find  mercy.     He  will." 

Babalatchi  looked  up  at  his  master  and  nodded 
his  head  with  by  no  means  a  joyful  surprise.  He 
had  not  thought  of  this;  there  was  a  new  compli- 
cation. 

"Almayer  must  die,"  said  Lakamba,  decisively, 
"to  make  our  secret  safe.  He  must  die  quietly, 
Babalatchi.     You  must  do  it." 

Babalatchi  assented,  and  rose  wearily  to  his  feet. 
"To-morrow?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;  before  the  Dutch  come.  He  drinks  much 
coffee,"  answered  Lakamba,  with  seeming  irrele- 
vancy. 

Babalatchi  stretched  himself  yawning,  but  La- 
kamba, in  the  flattering  consciousness  of  a  knotty 
problem  solved  by  his  own  unaided  intellectual 
efforts,  grew  suddenly  very  wakeful. 

"Babalatchi,"  he  said  to  the  exhausted  statesman, 
"fetch  the  box  of  music  the  white  captain  gave  me. 
I  cannot  sleep." 

At  this  order  a  deep  shade  of  melancholy  settled 
upon  Babalatchi 's  features.  He  went  reluctantly 
behind  the  curtain  and  soon  reappeared,  carrying  in 


116  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

his  arms  a  small  hand-organ,  which  he  put  down  on 
the  table  with  an  air  of  deep  dejection.  Lakamba 
settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  armchair. 

"Turn,  Babalatchi,  turn,"  he  murmured,  with 
closed  eyes. 

Babalatchi 's  hand  grasped  the  handle  with  the 
energy  of  despair,  and  as  he  turned,  the  deep 
gloom  on  his  countenance  changed  into  an  expression 
of  hopeless  resignation.  Through  the  open  shutter 
the  notes  of  Verdi's  music  floated  out  on  the  great 
silence  over  the  river  and  forest.  Lakamba  listened 
with  closed  eyes  and  a  delighted  smile ;  Babalatchi 
turned,  at  times  dozing  off  and  swaying  over,  then 
catching  himself  up  in  a  great  fright  with  a  few 
quick  turns  of  the  handle.  Nature  slept  in  an 
exhausted  repose  after  the  fierce  turmoil,  while 
under  the  unsteady  hand  of  the  statesman  of  Sambir 
the  Trovatore  fitfully  wept,  wailed,  and  bade  good- 
bye to  his  Leonore  again  and  again,  in  a  mournful 
round  of  tearful  and  endless  iteration. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

The  bright  sunshine  of  the  clear  mistless  morn- 
ing, after  the  stormy  night,  flooded  the  main  path 
of  the  settlement  leading  from  the  low  shore  of  the 
Pantai  branch  of  the  river  to  the  gate  of  AbduUa's 
compound.  The  path  was  deserted  this  morning; 
it  stretched  its  dark  yellow  surface,  hard  beaten  by 
the  tramp  of  many  bare  feet,  between  the  clusters 
of  palm  trees,  whose  tall  trunks  barred  it  with  strong 
black  lines  at  irregular  intervals,  while  the  newly 
risen  sun  threw  the  shadows  of  their  leafy  heads 
far  away  over  the  roofs  of  the  buildings  lining  the 
river,  even  over  the  river  itself  as  it  flowed  swiftly 
and  silently  past  the  deserted  houses.  For  the 
houses  were  deserted  too.  On  the  narrow  strip  of 
trodden  grass  intervening  between  their  open  doors 
and  the  road,  the  morning  fires  smouldered  untended, 
sending  thin  fluted  columns  of  smoke  into  the  cool 
air,  and  spreading  the  thinnest  veil  of  mysterious 
blue  haze  over  the  sunlit  solitude  of  the  settlement. 
Almayer,  just  out  of  his  hammock,  gazed  sleepily 
at  the  unwonted  appearance  of  Sambir,  wondering 

117 


118  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

vaguely  at  the  absence  of  life.  His  own  house  was 
very  quiet;  he  could  not  hear  his  wife's  voice,  nor 
the  sound  of  Nina's  footsteps  in  the  big  room  open- 
ing on  the  verandah  which  he  called  his  sitting- 
^-oom,  whenever,  in  the  company  of  white  men,  he 
wished  to  assert  his  claims  to  the  commonplace 
decencies  of  civilisation.  Nobody  ever  sat  there ; 
there  was  nothing  there  to  sit  upon,  for  Mrs. 
Almayer,  in  her  savage  moods,  when  excited  by 
the  reminiscences  of  the  piratical  period  of  her  life, 
had  torn  off  the  curtains  to  make  sarongs  for  the 
slave-girls,  and  had  burnt  the  showy  furniture  piece- 
meal to  cook  the  family  rice.  But  Almayer  was 
not  thinking  of  his  furniture  now.  He  was  think- 
ing of  Dain's  return,  of  Dain's  nocturnal  interview 
with  Lakamba,  of  its  possible  influence  on  his  long- 
matured  plans,  now  nearing  the  period  of  their 
execution.  He  was  also  uneasy  at  the  non-appear- 
ance of  Dain,  who  had  promised  him  an  early  visit. 
"  The  fellow  had  plenty  of  time  to  cross  the  river," 
he  mused,  "and  there  was  so  much  to  be  done 
to-day.  The  settling  of  details  for  the  early  start 
on  the  morrow ;  the  launching  of  the  boats ;  the 
thousand  and  one  finishing  touches.  For  the  expe- 
dition must  start  complete,  nothing  should  be  for- 
gotten, nothing  should " 

The   sense  of   the  unwonted  solitude  grew  upon 
him  suddenly,  and  in  the  unusual  silence  he  caught 


ALMAYER'S    1  OI.LV  119 

himself  longing  even  for  the  usually  unwelcome 
sound  of  his  wife's  voice  to  break  the  oppressive 
stillness  which  seemed,  to  his  frightened  fancy,  to 
portend  the  advent  of  some  new  fortune.  "  What 
has  happened?"  he  muttered  half  aloud,  as  he 
shuffled  in  his  imperfectly  adjusted  slippers  towards 
the  balustrade  of  the  verandah.  "  Is  everybody 
asleep  or  dead?" 

The  settlement  was  alive  and  very  much  awake. 
It  was  awake  ever  since  the  early  break  of  day, 
when  Mahmat  Banjer,  in  a  fit  of  unheard-of  energy, 
arose  and,  taking  up  his  hatchet,  stepped  over  the 
sleeping  forms  of  his  two  wives  and  walked  shiver- 
ing to  the  water's  edge  to  make  sure  that  the  new 
house  he  was  building  had  not  floated  away  during 
the  night. 

The  house  was  being  built  by  the  enterprising 
Mahmat  on  a  large  raft,  and  he  had  securely  moored 
it  just  inside  the  muddy  point  of  land  at  the  junc- 
tion of  the  two  branches  of  the  Pantai  so  as  to  be 
out  of  the  way  of  drifting  logs  that  would  no  doubt 
strand  on  the  point  during  the  freshet.  Mahmat 
walked  through  the  wet  grass  saying  Courrouh, 
and  cursing  softly  to  himself  the  hard  necessities 
of  active  life  that  drove  him  from  his  warm  couch 
into  the  cold  of  the  morning.  A  glance  showed 
him  that  his  house  was  still  there,  and  lie  congratu- 
lated himself  on  his  foresight  in  hauling  it  out  oi 


120  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

harm's  way,  for  the  increasing  light  showed  him 
a  confused  wrack  of  drift-logs,  half -stranded  on  the 
muddy  flat,  interlocked  into  a  shapeless  raft  by 
their  branches,  tossing  to  and  fro  and  grinding 
together  in  the  eddy  caused  by  the  meeting  currents 
of  the  two  branches  of  the  river.  Mahmat  walked 
down  to  the  water's  edge  to  examine  the  rattan 
moorings  of  his  house  just  as  the  sun  cleared  the 
trees  of  the  forest  on  the  opposite  store.  As  he 
bent  over  the  fastenings  he  glanced  again  carelessly 
at  the  unquiet  jumble  of  logs  and  saw  there  some- 
thing that  caused  him  to  drop  his  hatchet  and 
stand  up,  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  from  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun.  It  was  something  red,  and 
the  logs  rolled  over  it,  at  times  closing  round  it, 
sometimes  hiding  it.  It  looked  to  him  at  first  like 
a  strip  of  red  cloth.  The  next  moment  Mahmat 
had  made  it  out  and  raised  a  great  shout. 

"Ah  ya!  There!"  yelled  Mahmat.  "There's  a 
man  amongst  the  logs."  He  put  the  palms  of  his 
hands  to  his  lips  and  shouted,  enunciating  distinctly, 
his  face  turned  towards  the  settlement :  "  There's  a 
body  of  a  man  in  the  river !  Come  and  see  !  A 
dead  —  stranger! " 

The  women  of  the  nearest  house  were  already  out- 
side kindling  the  fires  and  husking  the  morning  rice. 
They  took  up  the  cry  shrilly,  and  it  travelled  so  from 
house  to  house,  dying  away  in  the  distance.     The 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  121 

men  rushed  out  excited  but  silent,  and  ran  towards 
the  muddy  point  where  the  unconscious  logs  tossed 
and  ground  and  bumped  and  rolled  over  the  dead 
stranger  with  the  stupid  persistency  of  inanimate 
things.  The  women  followed,  neglecting  their 
domestic  duties  and  disregarding  the  possibilities 
of  domestic  discontent,  while  groups  of  children 
brought  up  the  rear,  warbling  joyously,  in  the 
delight  of  unexpected  excitement. 

Almayer  called  aloud  for  his  wife  and  daughter, 
but  receiving  no  response,  stood  listening  intently. 
The  murmur  of  the  crowd  reached  him  faintly, 
bringing  with  it  the  assurance  of  some  unusual 
event.  He  glanced  at  the  river  just  as  he  was 
going  to  leave  the  verandah  and  checked  himself 
at  the  sight  of  a  small  canoe  crossing  over  from 
the  Rajah's  landing-place.  The  solitary  occupant 
(in  whom  Almayer  soon  recognised  Babalatchi) 
effected  the  crossing  a  little  below  the  house  and 
paddled  up  to  the  Lingard  jetty  in  the  dead  water 
under  the  bank.  Babalatchi  clambered  out  slowly 
and  went  on  fastening  his  canoe  with  fastidious  care, 
as  if  not  in  a  hurry  to  meet  Almayer,  whom  he  saw 
looking  at  him  from  the  verandah.  This  delay  gave 
Almayer  time  to  notice  and  greatly  wonder  at  Baba- 
latchi's  official  get-up.  The  statesman  of  Sambir 
was  clad  in  a  costume  befitting  his  high  rank.  A 
loudly   checkered   sarong   encircled   his   waist,  and 


122  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

from  its  many  folds  peeped  out  the  silver  hilt  of 
the  kriss  that  saw  the  light  only  on  great  festivals 
or  during  official  receptions.  Over  the  left  shoulder 
and  across  the  otherwise  unclad  breast  of  the  aged 
diplomatist  glistened  a  patent  leather  belt  bearing  a 
brass  plate  with  the  arms  of  Netherlands  under 
the  inscription,  "  Sultan  of  Sambir,"  Babalatchi's 
head  was  covered  by  a  red  turban,  whose  fringed 
ends  falling  over  the  left  cheek  and  shoulder  gave 
to  his  aged  face  a  ludicrous  expression  of  joyous 
recklessness.  When  the  canoe  was  at  last  fastened 
to  his  satisfaction  he  straightened  himself  up,  shak- 
ing down  the  folds  of  his  sarong,  and  moved  with 
long  strides  towards  Almayer's  house,  swinging 
regularly  his  long  ebony  staff,  whose  gold  head 
ornamented  with  precious  stones  flashed  in  tlie 
morning  sun.  Almayer  waved  his  hand  to  the 
right  towards  the  point  of  land,  to  him  invisible, 
but  in  full  view  from  the  jetty. 

"Oh,  Babalatchi!  oh!"  he  called  out;  "what  is 
the  matter  there  ?  can  you  see  ?  " 

Babalatchi  stopped  and  gazed  intently  at  the 
crowd  on  the  river  bank,  and  after  a  little  while 
the  astonished  Almayer  saw  him  leave  the  path, 
gather  up  his  sarong  in  one  hand,  and  break  into 
a  trot  through  the  grass  towards  the  muddy  point. 
Almayer,  now  greatly  interested,  ran  down  the 
steps    of    the    verandah.     The    murmur    of    meu'a 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  123 

voices  and  the  shrill  cries  of  women  reached  him 
quite  distinctly  now,  and  as  soon  as  he  turned  the 
corner  of  his  house  he  could  see  the  crowd  on 
the  low  promontory  swaying  and  pushing  round 
some  object  of  interest.  He  could  indistinctly  hear 
Babalatchi's  voice,  then  the  crowd  opened  before 
the  aged  statesman  and  closed  after  him  with  an 
excited  hum,  ending  in  a  loud  shout. 

As  Almayer  approached  the  throng  a  man  ran 
out  and  rushed  past  him  towards  the  settlement, 
unheeding  his  call  to  stop  and  explain  the  cause 
of  this  excitement.  On  the  very  outskirts  of  the 
crowd  Almayer  found  himself  arrested  by  an  un- 
yielding mass  of  humanity,  regardless  of  his  en- 
treaties for  a  passage,  insensible  to  his  gentle  pushes 
as  he  tried  to  work  his  way  through  it  towards 
the  riverside. 

In  the  midst  of  his  gentle  and  slow  progress  he 
fancied  suddenly  he  had  heard  his  wife's  voice  in 
the  thickest  of  the  throng.  He  could  not  mistake 
very  well  Mrs.  Almayer's  high-pitched  tones,  yet 
the  words  were  too  indistinct  for  him  to  understand 
their  purport.  He  paused  in  his  endeavours  to 
make  for  himself  a  passage,  intending  to  get  some 
intelligence  from  those  around  him,  when  a  long 
and  piercing  shriek  rent  the  air,  silencing  the  mur- 
murs of  the  crowd  and  the  voices  of  his  informants. 
For  a  moment  Almayer  remained  as  if  turned  into 


124  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

stone  with  astonishment  and  horror,  for  he  was 
certain  now  that  he  had  heard  his  wife  wailing  for 
the  dead.  He  remembered  Nina's  unusual  absence, 
and  maddened  by  his  apprehensions  as  to  her  safety, 
he  pushed  blindly  and  violently  forward,  the  crowd 
falling  back  with  cries  of  surprise  and  pain  before 
his  frantic  advance. 

On  the  point  of  land  in  a  little  clear  space  lay 
the  body  of  the  stranger  just  hauled  out  from 
amongst  the  logs.  On  one  side  stood  Babalatchi, 
his  chin  resting  on  the  head  of  his  staff  and  his 
one  eye  gazing  steadily  at  the  shapeless  mass  of 
broken  limbs,  torn  flesh,  and  bloodstained  rags. 
As  Almayer  burst  through  the  ring  of  horrified 
spectators,  Mrs.  Almayer  threw  her  own  head-veil 
over  the  upturned  face  of  the  drowned  man,  and, 
squatting  by  it,  with  another  mournful  howl,  sent 
a  shiver  through  the  now  silent  crowd.  Mahmat, 
dripping  wet,  turned  to  Almayer,  eager  to  tell  his 
tale. 

In  the  first  moment  of  reaction  from  the  anguish 
of  his  fear  the  sunshine  seemed  to  waver  before 
Almayer's  eyes,  and  he  listened  to  words  spoken 
around  him  without  comprehending  their  meaning. 
When,  by  a  strong  effort  of  will,  he  regained  the 
possession  of  his  senses,  Mahmat  was  saying  — 

"  That  is  the  way,  Tuan.  His  sarong  was 
caaght   in   the   broken  branch,  and  he  hung  with 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  125 

his  head  under  water.  When  I  saw  what  it  was 
I  did  not  want  it  here.  I  wanted  it  to  get  clear 
and  drift  away.  Why  should  we  bury  a  stranger 
in  the  midst  of  our  houses  for  his  ghost  to  frighten 
our  women  and  children?  Have  we  not  enough 
ghosts  about  this  place?" 

A  murmur  of  approval  interrupted  him  here. 
Mahmat  looked  reproachfully  at  Babalatchi. 

"But  the  Tuan  Babalatchi  ordered  me  to  drag 
the  body  ashore  "  —  he  went  on  looking  round  at 
his  audience,  but  addressing  himself  only  to  Almayer 
— "  and  I  dragged  him  by  the  feet ;  in  through 
the  mud  I  have  dragged  him,  although  my  heart 
longed  to  see  him  float  down  the  river  to  strand 
perchance  on  Bulangi's  clearing  —  may  his  father's 
grave  be  defiled!  " 

There  was  subdued  laughter  at  this,  for  the 
enmity  of  Mahmat  and  Bulangi  was  a  matter  of 
common  notoriety  and  of  undying  interest  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Sambir.  In  the  midst  of  that  mirth 
Mrs.  Almayer  wailed  suddenly  again. 

"  Allah  !  What  ails  the  woman  !  "  exclaimed 
Mahmat,  angrily.  "  Here,  I  have  touched  this 
carcass  which  came  from  nobody  knows  where, 
and  have  most  likely  defiled  myself  before  eating 
rice.  By  orders  of  Tuan  Babalatchi  I  did  this 
thing  to  please  the  white  man.  Are  you  pleased, 
O   Tuan  Almayer?     And  what  will  be  my  recom- 


126  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

pense?  Tuan  Babalatchi  said  a  recompense  there 
will  be,  and  from  you.  Now  consider.  I  have 
been  defiled,  and  if  not  defiled  I  may  be  under 
the  spell.  Look  at  his  anklets !  Who  ever  heard 
of  a  corpse  appearing  during  the  night  amongst 
the  logs  with  gold  anklets  on  its  legs?  There  is 
witchcraft  there.  However,"  added  Mahmat,  after 
a  reflective  pause,  "I  will  have  the  anklet  if  there 
is  permission,  for  I  have  a  charm  against  the  ghosts 
and  am  not  afraid.     God  is  great !  " 

A  fresh  outburst  of  noisy  grief  from  Mrs.  Almayer 
checked  the  flow  of  Mahmat's  eloquence.  Almayer, 
bewildered,  looked  in  turn  at  his  Nfife,  at  Mahmat, 
at  Babalatchi,  and  at  last  arrested  his  fascinated 
gaze  on  the  body  lying  on  the  mud  with  covered 
face  in  a  grotesquely  unnatural  contortion  of  man- 
gled and  broken  limbs,  one  twisted  and  lacerated 
arm,  with  white  bones  protruding  in  many  places 
through  the  torn  flesh,  stretched  out;  the  hand 
with  outspread  fingers  nearly  touching  his  foot. 

"  Do  you  know  who  this  is  ? "  he  asked  of 
Babalatchi,  in  a  low  voice. 

Babalatchi,  staring  straight  before  him,  hardly 
moved  his  lips,  while  Mrs.  Almayer's  persistent 
lamentations  drowned  the  whisper  of  his  mur- 
mured reply  intended  only  for  Almayer's  ear. 

"  It  was  fate.  Look  at  your  feet,  white  man.  I  can 
see  a  ring  on  those  torn  fingers  which  I  know  well." 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  127 

Saying  this,  Babalatchi  stepped  carelessly  forward, 
putting  his  foot  as  if  accidentally  on  the  hand  of 
the  corpse  and  pressing  it  into  the  soft  mud.  He 
swung  his  staff  menacingly  towards  the  crowd, 
which  fell  back  a  little. 

"  Go  away,"  he  said  sternly,  "  and  send  your 
women  to  their  cooking  fires,  which  they  ought  not 
to  have  left  to  run  after  a  dead  stranger.  This  is 
men's  work  here.  I  take  him  now  in  the  name  of 
the  Rajah.  Let  no  man  remain  here  but  Tuan 
Almayer's  slaves.     Now  go  !  " 

The  crowd  reluctantly  began  to  disperse.  The 
women  went  first,  dragging  away  the  children  that 
hung  back  with  all  their  weight  on  the  maternal 
hand.  The  men  strolled  slowly  after  them  in  ever 
forming  and  changing  groups  that  gradually  dis- 
solved as  they  neared  the  settlement,  and  every 
man  regained  his  own  house  with  steps  quickened 
by  the  hungry  anticipation  of  the  morning  rice. 
Only  on  the  slight  elevation  where  the  land  sloped 
down  towards  the  muddy  point  a  few  men,  either 
friends  or  enemies  of  Mahmat,  remained  gazing 
curiously  for  some  time  longer  at  the  small  group 
standing  around  the  body  on  the  river  bank. 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,  Babalatchi," 
said  Almayer.  "  What  is  the  ring  you  are  talking 
about  ?  You  have  trodden  the  poor  fellow's  —  who- 
ever  he  is  —  hand   right   into   the   mud.     Uncover 


128  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

his  face,"  he  went  on,  addressing  Mrs.  Almayer, 
who,  squatting  by  the  head  of  the  corpse,  rocked 
herself  to  and  fro,  shaking  from  time  to  time  her 
dishevelled  grey  locks,  and    muttering  mournfully. 

"Hai!"  exclaimed  Mahmat,  who  had  lingered 
alose  by.  "Look,  Tuan;  the  logs  came  together 
so,"  and  here  he  pressed  the  palms  of  his  hands 
together,  "  and  his  head  must  have  been  between 
them,  and  now  there  is  no  face  for  you  to  look  at. 
There  are  his  flesh  and  his  bones,  the  nose,  and 
the  lips,  and  maybe  his  eyes,  but  nobody  could 
tell  the  one  from  the  other.  It  was  written  the 
day  he  was  born  that  no  man  could  look  at  him  in 
death  and  be  able  to  say,  '  This  is  my  friend's 
face.'" 

"  Silence,  Mahmat ;  enough  !  "  said  Babalatchi, 
"•  and  take  thy  eyes  off  his  anklet,  thou  eater  of  pigs' 
flesh.  Tuan  Almayer,"  he  went  on,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  have  you  seen  Dain  this  morning  ?  " 

Almayer  opened  his  eyes  wide  and  looked  alarmed. 
"  No,"  he  said  quickly  ;  "  haven't  you  seen  him  ? 
Is  he  not  with  the  Rajah?  I  am  waiting  ;  why  does 
he  not  come  ?  " 

Babalatchi  nodded  his  head  sadly. 

"  He  is  come,  Tuan.  He  left  last  night  when  the 
storm  was  great  and  the  river  spoke  angrily.  The 
night  was  very  black,  but  he  had  within  him  a  light 
that  showed  the  way  to  your  house  as  smooth  as  a 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  129 

narrow  backwater,  and  the  many  logs  no  bigger  than 
wisps  of  dried  grass.  Therefore  he  went ;  and  now 
he  lies  here."  And  Babalatchi  nodded  his  head 
towards  the  body. 

"How  can  you  tell?"  said  Almayer,  excitedly, 
pushing  his  wife  aside.  He  snatched  the  cover  off 
and  looked  at  the  inform  mass  of  flesh,  hair,  and 
drying  mud,  where  the  face  of  the  drowned  man 
should  have  been.  "Nobody  can  tell,"  he  added, 
turning  away  with  a  shudder. 

Babalatchi  was  on  his  knees  wiping  the  mud  from 
the  stiffened  fingers  of  the  outstretched  hand.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  and  flashed  before  Almayer's  eyes  a 
gold  ring  set  with  a  large  green  stone. 

"  You  know  this  well,"  he  said.  "  This  never  left 
Dain's  hand.  I  had  to  tear  the  flesh  now  to  get  it 
off.     Do  you  believe  now  ?  " 

Almayer  raised  his  hands  to  his  head  and  let  them 
fall  listlessly  by  his  side  in  the  utter  abandonment 
of  despair.  Babalatchi,  looking  at  him  curiously, 
was  astonished  to  see  him  smile.  A  strange  fancy 
had  taken  possession  of  Almayer's  brain,  distracted 
by  this  new  misfortune.  It  seemed  to  him  that  for 
many  years  he  had  been  falling  into  a  deep  precipice. 
Day  after  day,  month  after  month,  year  after  year, 
he  had  been  falling,  falling,  falling ;  it  was  a  smooth, 
round,  black  thing,  and  the  black  walls  had  been 
rushing  upwards  with  wearisome  rapidity.     A  great 


130  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

rush,  the  noise  of  which  he  fancied  he  could  hear 
yet ;  and  now,  with  an  awful  shock,  he  had  reached 
the  bottom,  and  behold !  he  was  alive  and  whole, 
and  Dain  was  dead  with  all  his  bones  broken.  It 
struck  him  as  funny.  A  dead  Malay  :  he  had  seen 
many  dead  Malays  without  any  emotion ;  and  now 
he  felt  inclined  to  weep,  but  it  was  over  the  fate  of 
a  white  man  he  knew ;  a  man  that  fell  over  a  deep 
precipice  and  did  not  die.  He  seemed  somehow  to 
himself  to  be  standing  on  one  side,  a  little  way  off, 
looking  at  a  certain  Almayer  who  was  in  great 
trouble.  Poor,  poor  fellow  !  Why  doesn't  he  cut 
his  throat  ?  He  wished  to  encourage  him ;  he  was 
very  anxious  to  see  him  lying  dead  over  that  other 
corpse.  Why  does  he  not  die  and  end  this  suffer- 
ing ?  He  groaned  aloud  unconsciously  and  started 
with  affright  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  Was 
he  going  mad  ?  Terrified  by  the  thought  he  turned 
away  and  ran  towards  his  house,  repeating  to  him- 
self, "  I  am  not  going  mad ;  of  course  not,  no,  no. 
no  !  "  He  tried  to  keep  a  firm  hold  of  the  idea. 
Not  mad,  not  mad!  He  stumbled  as  he  ran  blindly 
up  the  steps  repeating  fast  and  ever  faster  those 
words  wherein  seemed  to  lie  his  salvation.  He  saw 
Nina  standing  there,  and  wished  to  say  something  to 
lier,  but  could  not  remember  what,  in  his  extreme 
anxiety  not  to  forget  that  he  was  not  going  mad, 
which  he  still  kept  repeating  mentally  as  he   ran 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  131 

round  the  table,  till  he  stumbled  against  one  of  the 
armchairs  and  dropped  into  it  exhausted.  He  sat 
staring  wildly  at  Nina,  still  assuring  himself  men- 
tally of  his  own  sanity  and  wondering  why  the  girl 
shrank  from  him  in  open-eyed  alarm.  What  was 
the  matter  with  her  ?  This  was  foolish.  He  struck 
the  table  violently  with  his  clenched  fist  and  shouted 
hoarsely, ''  Give  me  some  gin!  Run! '"  Then,  while 
Nina  ran  off,  he  remained  in  the  chair,  very  still  and 
quiet,  astonished  at  the  noise  he  had  made. 

Nina  returned  with  a  tumbler  half  filled  with 
gin,  and  found  her  father  staring  absently  before 
him.  Almayer  felt  very  tired  now,  as  if  he  had 
come  from  a  long  journey.  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
walked  miles  and  miles  that  morning  and  now 
wanted  to  rest  very  much.  He  took  the  tumbler 
with  a  shaking  hand,  and  as  he  drank,  his  teeth 
chattered  against  the  glass,  which  he  drained  and 
set  down  heavily  on  the  table.  He  turned  his  eyes 
slowly  towards  Nina  standing  beside  him,  and  said 
steadily  — 

"  Now  all  is  over,  Nina.  He  is  dead,  and  I  may 
as  well  burn  all  my  boats." 

He  felt  very  proud  of  being  able  to  speak  so 
calmly.  Decidedly  he  was  not  going  mad.  This 
certitude  was  very  comforting,  and  he  went  on  talk- 
ing about  the  finding  of  the  body,  listening  to  his 
own  voice    complacently.      Nina  stood   quietly,  her 


132  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

hand  resting  lightly  on  her  father's  shoulder,  her 
face  unmoved,  but  every  line  of  her  features,  the 
attitude  of  her  whole  body  expressing  the  most 
keen  and  anxious  attention. 

"  And  so  Dain  is  dead,"  she  said  coldly,  when 
her  father  ceased  speaking. 

Almayer's  elaborately  calm  demeanour  gave  way 
in  a  moment  to  an  outburst  of  violent  indignation. 

"  You  stand  there  as  if  you  were  only  half  alive, 
and  talk  to  me,"  he  exclaimed  angrily,  "  as  if  it  was 
a  matter  of  no  importance.  Yes,  he  is  dead!  Do 
you  understand  ?  Dead !  What  do  you  care  ? 
You  never  cared;  you  saw  me  struggle,  and  work, 
and  strive,  unmoved ;  and  my  suffering  you  could 
never  see.  No,  never.  You  have  no  heart,  and 
you  have  no  mind,  or  you  would  have  understood 
that  it  was  for  you,  for  your  happiness  I  was  work- 
ing. I  wanted  to  be  rich ;  I  wanted  to  get  away 
from  here.  I  wanted  to  see  white  men  bowing  low 
before  the  power  of  your  beauty  and  your  wealth. 
Old  as  I  am  I  wished  to  seek  a  strange  land,  a  civil- 
isation to  which  I  am  a  stranger,  so  as  to  find  a  new 
life  in  the  contemplation  of  your  high  fortunes,  of 
your  triumphs,  of  your  happiness.  For  that  I  bore 
patiently  the  burden  of  work,  of  disappointment,  of 
humiliation  amongst  these  savages  here,  and  I  had 
it  all  nearly  in  my  grasp.' 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  133 

He  looked  at  his  daughter's  unmoved  face  and 
jumped  to  his  feet,  upsetting  the  chair. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  I  had  it  all  there  ;  so ;  within 
reach  of  my  hand." 

He  paused,  trying  to  keep  down  his  rising  anger, 
and  failed. 

"  Have  you  no  feeling?  "  he  went  on.  "  Have  you 
lived  without  hope  ? "  Nina's  silence  exasperated 
him  ;  his  voice  rose,  although  he  tried  to  master  his 
feelings. 

"  Are  you  content  to  live  in  this  misery  and  die  in 
this  wretched  hole  ?  Say  something,  Nina ;  have 
you  no  sympathy  ?  Have  you  no  word  of  comfort 
for  me  ?     I  that  loved  you  so." 

He  waited  for  a  while  for  an  answer,  and  receiv- 
ing none  shook  his  fist  in  his  daughter's  face. 

"  I  believe  you  are  an  idiot!  "  he  yelled. 

He  looked  round  for  the  chair,  picked  it  up  and 
sat  down  stiffly.  His  anger  was  dead  within  him, 
and  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  outburst,  yet  relieved  to 
think  that  now  he  had  laid  clear  before  his  daughter 
the  inner  meaning  of  his  life.  He  thought  so  in  per- 
fect good  faith,  deceived  by  the  emotional  estimate 
of  his  motives,  unable  to  see  the  crookedness  of  his 
ways,  the  unreality  of  his  aims,  the  futility  of  his 
regrets.  And  now  his  heart  was  filled  only  with 
a  great  tenderness  and  love  for  his  daughter.  He 
wanted  to  see  her  miserable,  and  to  share  with  her 


134  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

his  despair  ;  but  he  wanted  it  only  as  all  weak 
natures  long  for  a  companionship  in  misfortune  with 
beings  innocent  of  its  cause.  If  she  suffered  herself 
she  would  understand  and  pity  him;  but  now  she 
would  not,  or  could  not,  find  one  word  of  comfort  or 
love  for  him  in  his  dire  extremity.  The  sense  of  his 
absolute  loneliness  came  home  to  his  heart  with  a 
force  that  made  him  shudder.  He  swayed  and  fell 
forward  with  his  face  on  the  table,  his  arms  stretched 
straight  out,  extended  and  rigid.  Nina  made  a 
quick  movement  towards  her  father  and  stood  look- 
ing at  the  grey  head  on  the  broad  shoulders  shaken 
convulsively  by  the  violence  of  feelings  that  found 
relief  at  last  in  sobs  and  tears. 

Nina  sighed  deeply  and  moved  away  from  the 
table.  Her  features  lost  the  appearance  of  stony 
indifference  that  had  exasperated  her  father  into  his 
outburst  of  anger  and  sorrow.  The  expression  of 
her  face,  now  unseen  by  her  father,  underwent  a 
rapid  change.  She  had  listened  to  Almayer's  appeal 
for  sympathy,  for  one  word  of  comfort,  apparently 
unmoved,  yet  with  her  breast  torn  by  conflicting 
impulses  raised  unexpectedly  by  events  she  had  not 
foreseen,  or  at  least  did  not  expect  to  happen  so  soon. 
With  her  heart  deeply  moved  by  the  sight  of  Al- 
mayer's misery,  knowing  it  in  her  power  to  end  it 
with  a  word,  longing  to  bring  peace  to  that  troubled 
heart,  she  heard  with  terror  the  voice  of  her  over- 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  135 

powering  love  commanding  her  to  be  silent.  And 
she  submitted  after  a  short  and  fierce  struggle  of  her 
old  self  against  the  new  principle  of  her  life.  Shu 
wrapped  herself  up  in  absolute  silence,  the  only  safe- 
guard against  some  fatal  admission.  She  could  not 
trust  herself  to  make  a  sign,  to  murmur  a  word  for 
fear  of  saying  too  much;  and  the  very  violence  of 
the  feelings  that  stirred  the  innermost  reces'^es  of  her 
soul  seemed  to  turn  her  person  into  a  stone.  The 
dilated  nostrils  and  the  flashing  eyes  were  the  only 
signs  of  the  storm  raging  within,  and  those  signs  of 
his  daughter's  emotion  Almayer  did  not  see,  for  his 
sight  was  dimmed  by  self-pity,  by  anger,  and  by 
despair. 

Had  Almayer  looked  at  his  daughter  as  she  leant 
over  the  front  rail  of  the  verandah  he  could  have 
seen  the  expression  of  indifference  give  way  to  a 
look  of  jDain,  and  that  again  pass  away,  leaving  the 
glorious  beauty  of  her  face  marred  by  deep-di-awn 
lines  of  watchful  anxiety.  The  long  grass  in  the 
neglected  courtyard  stood  very  straight  before  her 
eyes  in  the  noonday  heat.  From  the  river-bank 
there  were  voices  and  a  shuffle  of  bare  feet  approach- 
ing the  house  ;  Babalatchi  could  be  heard  giving 
directions  to  Almayer's  men,  and  Mrs.  Almayer's 
subdued  wailing  became  audible  as  the  small  pro- 
cession bearing  the  body  of  the  di'owned  man  and 
headed  by  that  sorrowful  matron  turned  the  corner 


136  ALMAVEK'S    K(JLLY. 

of  the  house.  Babalatchi  had  taken  the  broken 
anklet  off  the  man's  leg,  and  now  held  it  in  his 
hand  as  he  moved  by  the  side  of  the  bearers,  while 
Mahmat  lingered  behind  timidly,  in  the  hopes  of  the 
promised  reward. 

"  Lay  him  there,"  said  Babalatchi  to  Almayer's 
men,  pointing  to  a  pile  of  drying  planks  in  front 
of  the  verandah.  "  Lay  him  there.  He  was  a  Kaffir 
and  the  son  of  a  dog,  and  he  was  the  white  man's 
friend.  He  drank  the  white  man's  strong  water," 
he  added,  with  affected  horror.  "  That  I  have  seen 
myself."' 

The  men  stretched  out  the  broken  limbs  on  two 
planks  they  had  laid  level,  while  Mrs.  Almayer  cov- 
ered the  body  with  a  piece  of  white  cotton  cloth,  and 
after  whispering  for  some  time  with  Babalatchi 
departed  to  her  domestic  duties.  Almayer's  men, 
after  laying  down  their  burden,  dispersed  themselves 
in  quest  of  shady  spots  wherein  to  idle  the  day  away. 
Babalatchi  was  left  alone  by  the  corpse  that  laid 
rigid  under  the  white  cloth  in  the  bright  sunshine. 

Nina  came  down  the  steps  and  joined  Babalatchi, 
who  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  squatted  down 
with  great  deference. 

"  You  have  a  bangle  there,"  said  Nina,  looking 
down  on  Babalatchi's  upturned  face  and  into  his 
solitary  eye. 

"I  have,  Mem  Putih,"  returned  the  polite  states 


ALMAYEk'S    FULLY.  137 

man.  Then  turning  towards  Mahmat  he  beckoned 
him  closer,  calling  out,  "  Come  here!  " 

Mahmat  approached  with  some  hesitation.  He 
avoided  looking  at  Nina,  but  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Babalatchi. 

"  Now,  listen,"  said  Babalatchi,  sharply.  "  The 
ring  and  the  anklet  you  have  seen,  and  you  know 
they  belonged  to  Dain  the  trader,  and  to  no  other. 
Dain  returned  last  night  in  a  canoe.  He  spoke  with 
the  Rajah,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  night  left  to 
cross  over  to  the  white  man's  house.  There  was  a 
great  flood,  and  this  morning  jou  found  him  in  the 
river." 

'■'•  By  his  feet  I  dragged  him  out,"  muttered 
Mahmat  under  his  breath.  "  Tuan  Babalatchi,  there 
will  be  a  recompense  !  "  he  exclaimed  aloud. 

Babalatchi  held  up  the  gold  bangle  before  Mah- 
mat's  eyes.  "  What  I  have  told  you,  Mahmat,  is  f oi 
all  ears.  What  I  give  you  now  is  for  your  eyes  only. 
Take." 

Mahmat  took  the  bangle  eagerly  and  hid  it  in  the 
folds  of  his  waist-cloth.  "  Am  I  a  fool  to  show  this 
thing  in  a  house  with  three  women  in  it  ? "  he 
growled.  "  But  I  shall  tell  them  about  Dain  the 
trader,  and  there  will  be  talk  enough." 

He  turned  and  went  away,  increasing  his  pace  as 
soon  as  he  was  outside  Almayer's  compound. 

Babalatchi  looked  after  him  till   he  disappeared 


138  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

behind  the  bushes.  "  Have  1  doue  well,  Mem 
Putih?  "  he  asked,  humbly  addressing  Nina. 

"  You  have,"  answered  Nina.  "  The  ring  you  may 
keep  yourself." 

Babalatchi  touched  his  lips  and  forehead,  and 
scrambled  to  his  feet.  He  looked  at  Nina,  as  if  ex- 
pecting her  to  say  something  more,  but  Nina  turned 
towards  the  house  and  went  up  the  steps,  motioning 
him  away  with  her  hand. 

Babalatchi  picked  up  his  staff  and  prepared  to  go. 
It  was  very  warm,  and  he  did  not  care  for  the  long 
pull  to  the  Rajah's  house.  Yet  he  must  go  and  tell 
the  Rajah  —  tell  of  the  event ;  of  the  change  in  his 
plans  ;  of  all  his  suspicions.  He  walked  to  the  jetty 
and  began  casting  off  the  rattan  painter  of  his  canoe. 

The  broad  expanse  of  the  lower  reach,  with  its 
shimmering  surface  dotted  by  the  black  specks  of 
the  fishing  canoes,  lay  before  his  eyes.  The  fisher- 
men seemed  to  be  racing.  Babalatchi  paused  in  his 
work,  and  looked  on  with  sudden  interest.  The 
man  in  the  foremost  canoe,  now  within  hail  of  the 
first  houses  of  Sambir,  laid  in  his  paddle  and  stood 
up  shouting  — 

'•'  The  boats  !  the  boats  I  The  man-of-war's  boats 
are  coming  !     They  are  here  !  " 

In  a  moment  the  settlement  was  again  alive  with 
people  rushing  to  the  riverside.  The  men  began  to 
unfasten  their   boats,  the   women   stood   in   groups 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  139 

looking  towards  the  bend  down  the  river.  Above 
the  trees  lining  the  reach  a  slight  puff  of  smoke 
appeared  like  a  black  stain  on  the  brilliant  blue  of 
the  cloudless  sky. 

Babalatchi  stood  perplexed,  the  painter  in  his 
hand.  He  looked  down  the  reach,  then  up  towards 
Almayer's  house,  and  back  again  at  the  river  as  if 
undecided  what  to  do.  At  last  he  made  the  canoe 
fast  again  hastily,  and  ran  towards  the  house  and 
up  the  steps  of  the  verandah. 

"Tuan!  Tuan!"  he  called,  eagerly.  "The  boats 
are  coming.  The  man-of-war's  boats.  You  had 
better  get  ready.  The  officers  will  come  here,  I 
know." 

Almayer  lifted  his  head  slowly  from  the  table,  and 
looked  at  him  stupidly. 

"  Mem  Putih ! "  exclaimed  Babalatchi  to  Nina, 
"  look  at  him.  He  does  not  hear.  You  must  take 
care,"  he  added  meaningly. 

Nina  nodded  to  him  with  an  uncertain  smile,  and 
was  going  to  speak,  when  a  sharp  report  from  the 
gun  mounted  in  the  bow  of  the  steam  launch  that 
was  just  then  coming  into  view  arrested  the  words 
on  her  parted  lips.  The  smile  died  out,  and  was 
replaced  by  the  old  look  of  anxious  attention. 
From  the  hills  far  away  the  echo  came  back  like 
a  long-drawn  and  mournful  sigh,  as  if  the  land  had 
sent  it  in  answer  to  the  voice  of  its  masters. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  news  as  to  the  identity  of  the  body  lying 
now  in  Almayer's  compound  spread  rapidly  over  the 
settlement.  During  the  forenoon  most  of  the  inhab- 
itants remained  in  the  long  street  discussing  the 
mysterious  return  and  the  unexpected  death  of  the 
man  who  had  become  known  to  them  as  the  trader. 
His  arrival  during  the  north-east  monsoon,  his  long 
sojourn  in  their  midst,  his  sudden  departure  with 
his  brig,  and,  above  all,  the  mysterious  appearance  of 
the  body,  said  to  be  his,  amongst  the  logs,  were  sub- 
jects to  wonder  at  and  to  talk  over  and  over  again 
with  undiminished  interest.  Mahmat  moved  from 
house  to  house  and  from  group  to  group,  always 
ready  to  repeat  his  tale :  how  he  saw  the  bod}' 
caught  by  the  sarong  in  a  forked  log ;  how  Mrs. 
Almayer  coming,  one  of  the  first,  at  his  cries,  recog- 
nised it,  even  before  he  had  it  hauled  on  shore  ;  how 
Babalatchi  ordered  him  to  bring  it  out  of  the  water. 
"By  the  feet  I  dragged  him  in,  and  there  was  no 
head,"  exclaimed  Mahmat,  "  and  how  could  the  white 
man's  wife  know  who  it  was?     She  was  a  witch,  it 

140 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  141 

was  well  known.  And  did  you  see  how  the  white 
man  himself  ran  away  at  the  sight  of  the  body? 
Like  a  deer  he  ran  !  "  And  here  Mahmat  imitated 
Almayer's  long  strides,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  be- 
holders. And  for  all  his  trouble  he  had  nothing. 
The  ring  with  the  green  stone  Tuan  Babalatchi 
kept.  "•  Nothing  !  Nothing  !  "  He  spat  down  at 
his  feet  in  sign  of  disgust,  and  left  that  group  to 
seek  further  on  a  fresh  audience. 

The  news  spreading  to  the  furthermost  parts  of 
the  settlement  found  out  Abdulla  in  the  cool  recess 
of  his  godown,  where  he  sat  overlooking  his  Arab 
clerks  and  the  men  loading  and  unloading  the  up- 
country  canoes.  Reshid,  who  was  busy  on  the  jetty, 
was  summoned  into  his  uncle's  presence,  and  found 
him,  as  usual,  very  calm  and  even  cheerful,  but 
very  much  surprised.  The  rumour  of  the  capture 
or  destruction  of  Dain's  brig  had  reached  the  Arab's 
ears  three  days  before  from  the  sea-fishermen  and 
through  the  dwellers  on  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
river.  It  had  been  passed  up-stream  from  neighbour 
to  neighbour  till  Bulangi,  whose  clearing  was  near- 
est to  the  settlement,  had  brought  that  news  himself 
to  Abdulla,  whose  favour  he  courted.  But  rumour 
also  spoke  of  a  fight  and  of  Dain's  death  on  board 
his  own  vessel.  And  now  all  the  settlement  talked 
of  Dain's  visit  to  the  Rajah  and  of  liis  death  when 
crossing   the   river   in    the    dark    to   see   Almayer. 


142  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

They  could  not  understand  this.  Reshid  thought 
that  it  was  very  strange.  He  felt  uneasy  and 
doubtful.  But  Abdulla,  after  the  first  shock  of 
surprise,  with  the  old  age's  dislike  for  solving  rid- 
dles, showed  a  becoming  resignation.  He  remarked 
that  the  man  was  dead  now  at  all  events,  and  con- 
sequently no  more  dangerous.  Where  was  the  use 
to  wonder  at  the  decrees  of  Fate,  especially  if  they 
were  propitious  to  the  True  Believers?  And  with 
a  pious  ejaculation  to  Allah  the  Merciful,  the  Com- 
passionate, Abdulla  seemed  to  regard  the  incident 
as  closed  for  the  present. 

Not  so  Reshid.  He  lingered  by  his  uncle,  pulling 
thoughtfully  his  neatly  trimmed  beard. 

"  There  are  many  lies,"  he  murmured.  "  He  has 
been  dead  once  before,  and  come  to  life  to  die  again 
now.  The  Dutch  will  be  here  before  many  days 
and  clamour  for  the  man.  Shall  I  not  believe  my 
eyes  sooner  than  the  tongues  of  women  and  idle 
men  ?  " 

"  They  say  that  the  body  is  being  taken  to 
Almayer's  compound,"  said  Abdulla.  ''  If  you  want 
to  go  there  you  must  go  before  the  Dutch  arrive 
here.  Go  late.  It  should  not  be  said  that  we  have 
been  seen  inside  that  man's  enclosure  lately." 

Reshid  assented  to  the  truth  of  this  last  remark 
and  left  his  uncle's  side.  He  leaned  against  the 
lintel  of  the  big  doorway  and  looked  idly  across  the 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  143 

courtyard  through  the  open  gate  on  to  the  main 
road  of  the  settlement.  It  lay  empty,  straight,  and 
yellow  under  the  flood  of  light.  In  the  hot  noon- 
tide, the  smooth  trunks  of  palm  trees,  the  outlines 
of  the  houses,  and  away  there  at  the  other  end  of 
the  road  the  roof  of  Almayer's  house  visible  over 
the  bushes  on  the  dark  background  of  forest,  seemed 
to  quiver  in  the  heat  radiating  from  the  steaming 
earth.  Swarms  of  yellow  butterflies  rose,  and  set- 
tled to  rise  again  in  short  flights  before  Reshid's 
half -closed  eyes.  From  under  his  feet  arose  the  dull 
hum  of  insects  in  the  long  grass  of  the  courtyard. 
He  looked  on  sleepily. 

From  one  of  the  side  paths  amongst  the  houses 
a  woman  stepped  out  on  the  road,  a  slight  girlish 
figure  walking  under  the  shade  of  a  large  tray  bal- 
anced on  its  head.  The  consciousness  of  something 
moving  stirred  Reshid's  half -sleeping  senses  into  a 
comparative  wakefulness.  He  recognised  Taminah, 
Bulangi's  slave-girl,  with  her  tray  of  cakes  for  sale 
—  an  apparition  of  daily  recurrence  and  of  no  impor- 
tance whatever.  She  was  going  towards  Almayer's 
house.  She  could  be  made  useful.  He  roused  him- 
self up  and  ran  towards  the  gate,  calling  out,  "  Tami- 
nah O  !  "  The  girl  stopped,  hesitated,  and  came 
back  slowly.  Reshid  waited,  signing  to  her  impa- 
tiently to  come  nearer. 

When  near  Reshid  Taminah  waited  with  down- 


144  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

cast  eyes.  Resliid  looked  at  her  awhile  before  he 
asked  — 

"  Are  you  going  to  Almayer's  house  ?  They  say 
in  the  settlement  that  Dain  the  trader,  he  that  was 
found  drowned  this  morning,  is  lying  in  the  white 
man's  campong." 

"I  have  heard  this  talk,"  whispered  Taminah; 
"  and  this  morning  by  the  riverside  I  saw  the  body. 
Where  it  is  now  I  do  not  know." 

"  So  you  have  seen  it  ? "  asked  Reshid,  eagerly. 
"Is  it  Dain?" 

"You  have  seen  him  many  times.  You  would 
know  him." 

The  girl's  lips  quivered  and  she  remained  silent 
for  a  while,  breathing  quickly, 

"  I  have  seen  him,  not  a  long  time  ago,"  she  said 
at  last.  "  The  talk  is  true  ;  he  is  dead.  What  do 
you  want  from  me,  Tuan?     I  must  go." 

Just  then  the  report  of  the  gun  fired  on  board  the 
steam  launch  was  heard  interrupting  Reshid's  reply. 
Leaving  the  girl  he  ran  to  the  house,  and  met  in  the 
courtyard  Abdulla  coming  towards  the  gate. 

"  The  Orang  Blanda  are  come, "  said  Reshid,  "  and 
now  we  shall  have  our  reward." 

Abdulla  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  The  white 
men's  rewards  are  long  in  coming,"  he  said.  "  White 
men  are  quick  in  anger  and  slow  in  gratitude.  We 
shall  see." 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  146 

He  stood  at  the  gate  stroking  his  grey  beard  and 
listening  to  the  distant  cries  of  greeting  at  the  other 
end  of  the  settlement.  As  Taminah  was  turning  to 
go  he  called  her  back. 

"Listen,  girl,"  he  said:  "there  will  be  many  white 
men  in  Almayer's  house.  You  shall  be  there  sell- 
ing your  cakes  to  the  men  of  the  sea.  What  you 
see  and  what  you  hear  you  may  tell  me.  Come 
here  before  the  sun  sets  and  I  will  give  you  a  blue 
handkerchief  with  red  spots.  Now  go,  and  forget 
not  to  return." 

He  gave  her  a  push  with  the  end  of  his  long 
staff  as  she  was  going  away  and  made  her  stumble. 

"  This  slave  is  very  slow,"  he  remarked  to  his 
nephew,  looking  after  the  girl  with  great  disfavour. 

Taminah  walked  on,  her  tray  on  the  head,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground.  From  the  open  doors 
of  the  houses  were  heard,  as  she  passed,  friendly 
calls  inviting  her  within  for  business  purposes,  but 
she  never  heeded  them,  neglecting  her  sales  in  the 
preoccupation  of  intense  thinking.  Since  the  very 
early  morning  she  had  heard  much,  she  had  also 
seen  much  that  filled  her  heart  with  a  joy  mingled 
with  great  suffering  and  fear.  Before  the  dawn, 
before  she  left  Bulangi's  house  to  paddle  up  to 
Sambir  she  had  heard  voices  outside  the  house 
when  all  in  it  but  herself  were  asleep.  And  now, 
with    her   knowledge  of   the  words   spoken    in   the 


146  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

darkness,  she  held  in  her  hand  a  life  and  carried 
in  her  breast  a  great  sorrow.  Yet  from  her  springy 
step,  erect  figure,  and  face  veiled  over  by  the  every- 
day look  of  apathetic  indifference,  nobody  could 
have  guessed  of  the  double  load  she  carried  under 
the  visible  burden  of  the  tray  piled  up  high 
with  cakes  manufactured  by  the  thrifty  hands  of 
Bulangi's  wives.  In  that  supple  figure  straight  as 
an  arrow,  so  graceful  and  free  in  its  walk,  behind 
those  soft  eyes  that  spoke  of  nothing  but  of  uncon- 
scious resignation,  there  slept  all  feelings  and  all 
passions,  all  hopes  and  all  fears,  the  curse  of  life 
and  the  consolation  of  death.  And  she  knew  noth- 
ing of  it  all.  She  lived  like  the  tall  palms  amongst 
whom  she  was  passing  now,  seeking  the  light,  desir- 
ing the  sunshine,  fearing  the  storm,  unconscious 
of  either.  The  slave  had  no  hope,  and  knew  of 
no  change.  She  knew  of  no  other  sky,  no  other 
water,  no  other  forest,  no  other  world,  no  other  life. 
She  had  no  wish,  no  hope,  no  love,  no  fear  except 
of  a  blow,  and  no  vivid  feeling  but  that  of  occa- 
sional hunger,  which  was  seldom,  for  Bulangi  was 
rich,  and  rice  was  plentiful  in  the  solitary  house  in 
his  clearing.  The  absence  of  pain  and  hunger  was 
her  happiness,  and  when  she  felt  unhappy  she  was 
simply  tired,  more  than  usual,  after  the  day's  labour. 
Then  in  the  hot  nights  of  the  south-west  monsoon 
she  slept  dreamlessly  under  the  bright  stars  on  the 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  147 

platform  built  outside  the  house  and  over  the  river. 
Inside  they  slept  too :  Bulangi  by  the  door ;  his 
wives  further  in  ;  the  children  with  their  mothers. 
She  could  hear  their  breathing  ;  Bulangi's  sleepy 
voice  ;  the  sharp  cry  of  a  child  soon  hushed  with 
tender  words.  And  she  closed  her  eyes  to  the  mur- 
mur of  the  water  below  her,  to  the  whisper  of  the 
warm  wind  above,  ignorant  of  the  never-ceasing 
life  of  that  tropical  nature  that  spoke  to  her  in 
vain  with  the  thousand  faint  voices  of  the  near 
forest,  with  the  breath  of  tepid  wind;  in  the  heavy 
scents  that  lingered  round  her  head;  in  the  white 
wraiths  of  morning  mist  that  hung  over  her  in  the 
solemn  hush  of  all  creation  before  the  dawn. 

Such  had  been  her  existence  before  the  coming 
of  the  brig  with  the  strangers.  She  remembered 
well  that  time ;  the  uproar  in  the  settlement,  the 
never-ending  wonder,  the  days  and  nights  of  talk 
and  excitement.  She  remembered  her  own  timidity 
with  the  strange  men,  till  the  brig  moored  to  the 
bank  became  in  a  manner  part  of  the  settlement, 
and  the  fear  wore  off  in  the  familiarity  of  constant 
intercourse.  The  call  on  board  then  became  part 
of  her  daily  round.  She  walked  hesitatingly  up 
the  slanting  planks  of  the  gangway  amidst  the 
encouraging  shouts  and  more  or  less  decent  jokes 
of  the  men  idling  over  the  bulwarks.  There  she 
sold  her  wares  to  those  men  that  spoke  so  loud  and 


148  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

carried  themselves  so  free.  There  was  a  throng,  a 
constant  coming  and  going ;  calls  interchanged, 
orders  given  and  executed  with  shouts ;  the  rattle 
of  blocks,  the  flinging  about  of  coils  of  rope.  She 
sat  out  of  the  way  under  the  shade  of  the  awning, 
with  her  tray  before  her,  the  veil  drawn  well  over 
her  face,  feeling  shy  amongst  so  many  men.  She 
smiled  at  all  buyers,  but  spoke  to  none,  letting 
their  jests  pass  with  stolid  unconcern.  She  heard 
many  tales  told  around  her  of  far-off  countries,  of 
strange  customs,  of  events  stranger  still.  Those 
men  were  brave;  but  the  most  fearless  of  them 
spoke  of  their  chief  with  fear.  Often  the  man 
they  called  their  master  passed  before  her,  walking- 
erect  and  indifferent  in  the  pride  of  youth,  in  the 
flash  of  rich  dress,  with  a  tinkle  of  gold  ornaments, 
while  everybody  stood  aside  watching  anxiously  for 
a  movement  of  his  lips,  ready  to  do  his  bidding. 
Then  all  her  life  seemed  to  rush  into  her  eyes,  and 
from  under  her  veil  she  gazed  at  him,  charmed,  yet 
fearful  to  attract  attention.  One  day  he  noticed 
her  and  asked,  "  Who  is  that  girl  ? "  "A  slave, 
Tuan !  A  girl  that  sells  cakes,"  a  dozen  voices 
replied  together.  She  rose  in  terror  to  run  on 
shore,  when  he  called  her  back ;  and  as  she  stood 
trembling  with  head  hung  down  before  him,  he 
spoke  kind  words,  lifting  her  chin  with  his  hand 
and  looking  into  her  eyes  with  a  smile.     "  Do  not 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  149 

be  afraid,"  he  said.  He  never  spoke  to  her  any 
more.  Somebody  called  out  from  the  river  bank; 
he  turned  away  and  forgot  her  existence.  Taminah 
saw  Almayer  standing  on  the  shore  with  Nina  on 
his  arm.  She  heard  Nina's  voice  calling  out  gaily, 
and  saw  Dain's  face  brighten  with  joy  as  he  leaped 
on  shore.  She  hated  the  sound  of  that  voice  ever 
since. 

After  that  day  she  left  off  visiting  Almayer's 
compound,  and  passed  the  noon  hours  under  the 
shade  of  the  brig  awning.  She  watched  for  his 
coming  with  heart  beating  quicker  and  quicker,  as 
he  approached,  into  a  wild  tumult  of  newly-aroused 
feelings  of  joy  and  hope  and  fear  that  died  away 
with  Dain's  retreatmg  figure,  leaving  her  tired  out, 
as  if  after  a  struggle,  sitting  still  for  a  long  time  in 
dreamy  languor.  Then  she  paddled  home  slowly 
in  the  afternoon,  often  letting  her  canoe  float  with 
the  lazy  stream  in  the  quiet  backwater  of  the  river. 
The  paddle  hung  idle  in  the  water  as  she  sat  in 
the  stern,  one  hand  supporting  her  chin,  her  eyes 
wide  open,  listening  intently  to  the  whispering  of 
her  heart  that  seemed  to  swell  at  last  into  a  song 
of  extreme  sweetness.  Listening  to  that  song  she 
husked  the  rice  at  home;  it  dulled  her  ears  to  the 
shrill  bickerings  of  Bulangi's  wives,  to  the  sound  of 
angry  reproaches  addressed  to  herself.  And  when 
the   sun   was   near   its   setting   she   walked   to   the 


150  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

bathing-place  and  heard  it  as  she  stood  on  the 
tender  grass  of  the  low  bank,  her  robe  at  her  feet, 
and  looked  at  the  reflection  of  her  figure  on  the 
glass-like  surface  of  the  creek.  Listening  to  it  she 
walked  slowly  back,  her  wet  hair  hanging  over  her 
shoulders ;  lying  down  to  rest  under  the  bright 
stars,  she  closed  her  eyes  to  the  murmur  of  the 
water  below,  of  the  warm  wind  above ;  to  the  voice 
of  nature  speaking  through  the  faint  noises  of  the 
great  forest,  and  to  the  song  of  her  own  heart. 

She  heard,  but  did  not  understand,  and  drank  in 
the  dreamy  joy  of  her  new  existence  without  troub- 
ling about  its  meaning  or  its  end,  till  the  full  con- 
sciousness of  life  came  to  her  through  pain  and 
anger.  And  she  suffered  horribly  the  first  time 
she  saw  Nina's  long  canoe  drift  silently  past  the 
sleeping  house  of  Bulangi,  bearing  the  two  lovers 
into  the  white  mist  of  the  great  river.  Her  jealousy 
and  rage  culminated  into  a  paroxysm  of  physical 
pain  that  left  her  lying  panting  on  the  river  bank, 
in  the  dumb  agony  of  a  wounded  animal.  But  she 
went  on  moving  patiently  in  the  enchanted  circle 
of  slavery,  going  through  her  task  day  after  day 
with  all  the  pathos  of  the  grief  she  could  not  ex- 
press, even  to  herself,  locked  within  her  breast. 
She  shrank  from  Nina  as  she  would  have  shrunk 
from  the  sharp  blade  of  a  knife  cutting  into  her 
flesh,  but  she  kept  on  visiting  the  brig  to  feed  her 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  151 

dumb,  ignorant  soul  on  her  own  despair.  She  saw 
Dain  many  times.  He  never  spoke,  he  never  looked. 
Could  his  eyes  see  only  one  woman's  image  ?  Could 
his  ears  hear  only  one  woman's  voice?  He  never 
noticed  her ;  not  once. 

And  then  he  went  away.  She  saw  him  and  Nina 
for  the  last  time  on  that  morning  when  Babalatchi, 
while  visiting  his  fish  baskets,  had  his  suspicions  of 
the  white  man's  daughter's  love  affair  with  Dain 
confirmed  beyond  the  shadow  of  doubt.  Dain  dis- 
appeared, and  Taminah's  heart,  where  lay  useless 
and  barren  the  seeds  of  all  love  and  of  all  hate,  the 
possibilities  of  all  passions  and  of  all  sacrifices, 
forgot  its  joys  and  its  sufferings  when  deprived 
of  the  help  of  the  senses.  Her  half -formed,  savage 
mind,  the  slave  of  her  body  —  as  her  body  was 
the  slave  of  another's  will  —  forgot  the  faint  and 
vague  image  of  the  ideal  that  had  found  its  begin- 
ning in  the  physical  promptings  of  her  savage 
nature.  She  dropped  back  into  the  torpor  of  her 
former  life  and  found  consolation  —  even  a  certain 
kind  of  happiness  —  in  the  thought  that  now  Nina 
and  Dain  were  separated,  probably  for  ever.  He 
would  forget.  This  thought  soothed  the  last  pangs 
of  dying  jealousy  that  had  nothing  now  to  feed 
upon,  and  Taminah  found  peace.  It  was  like  the 
dreary  tranquillit}*  of  a  desert,  where  there  is 
peace  only  because  there  is  no  life. 


152  ALMAYER'S    H)1,LY. 

And  now  he  had  returned.  Slie  had  recognised 
his  voice  calling  aloud  in  the  night  for  Bulangi. 
She  had  crept  out  after  her  master  to  listen  closer 
to  the  intoxicating  sound.  Dain  was  there,  in  a 
boat,  talking  to  Bulangi.  Taminah,  listening  with 
arrested  breath,  heard  another  voice.  The  mad- 
dening joy,  that  only  a  second  before  she  thought 
herself  incapable  of  containing  within  her  fast- 
beating  heart,  died  out,  and  left  her  shivering  in 
the  old  anguish  of  physical  pain  that  she  had  suf- 
fered once  before  at  the  sight  of  Dain  and  Nina. 
Nina  spoke  now,  ordering  and  entreating  in  turns, 
and  Bulangi  was  refusing,  expostulating,  at  last 
consenting.  He  went  in  to  take  a  paddle  from 
the  heap  lying  behind  the  door.  Outside  the 
murmur  of  two  voices  went  on,  and  she  caught  a 
word  here  and  there.  She  understood  that  he  was 
fleeing  from  white  men,  that  he  was  seeking  a 
hiding  place,  that  he  was  in  some  danger.  But 
she  heard  also  words  which  woke  the  rage  of 
jealousy  that  had  been  asleep  for  so  many  days  in 
her  bosom.  Crouching  low  on  the  mud  in  the 
black  darkness  amongst  the  piles,  she  heard  the 
whisper  in  the  boat  that  made  light  of  toil,  of 
privation,  of  danger,  of  life  itself,  if  in  exchange 
there  could  be  but  a  short  moment  of  close 
embrace,  a  look  from  the  eyes,  the  feel  of  light 
breath,  the  touch  of  soft  lips.     So  spoke  Dain  as 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  153 

he  sat  in  the  canoe  holding  Nina's  hands  while 
waiting  for  Bulangi's  return;  and  Taminah,  sup- 
porting herself  by  the  slimy  pile,  felt  as  if  a  heavy 
weight  was  crushing  her  down,  down  into  the 
black  oily  water  at  her  feet.  She  wanted  to  cry 
out ;  to  rush  at  them  and  tear  their  vague  shadows 
apart ;  to  throw  Nina  into  the  smooth  water,  cling 
to  her  close,  hold  her  to  the  bottom  where  that 
man  could  not  find  her.  She  could  not  cry,  she 
could  not  move.  Then  footsteps  were  heard  on 
the  bamboo  platform  above  her  head;  she  saw 
Bulangi  get  into  his  smallest  canoe  and  take  the 
lead,  the  other  boat  following,  paddled  by  Dain 
and  Nina.  With  a  slight  splash  of  the  paddles 
dipped  stealthily  into  the  water,  their  indistinct 
forms  passed  l)efore  her  aching  eyes  and  vanished 
in  the  darkness  of  the  creek. 

She  remained  there  in  the  cold  and  wet,  powerless 
to  move,  breathing  painfully  under  the  crushing 
weight  that  the  mysterious  hand  of  Fate  had  laid  so 
suddenly  upon  her  slender  shoulders,  and  shivering, 
she  felt  within  a  burning  fire,  that  seemed  to  feed 
upon  her  very  life.  When  the  breaking  day  had 
spread  a  pale  golden  ribbon  over  the  black  outline 
of  the  forests,  she  took  up  her  tray  and  departed 
towards  the  settlement,  going  about  her  task  purel}- 
from  the  force  of  habit.  As  she  approached  Sambir 
she   could   see    tlie    excitement  and  she  heard   witli 


154  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

momentary  surprise  of  the  finding  of  Dain's  body. 
It  was  not  true,  of  course  she  knew  it  well.  She 
regretted  that  he  was  not  dead.  She  should  have 
liked  Dain  to  be  dead,  so  as  to  be  parted  from  that 
woman  —  from  all  women.  She  felt  a  strong  desire 
to  see  Nina,  but  without  any  clear  object.  Slie 
hated  her,  and  feared  her,  and  she  felt  an  irresistible 
impulse  pushing  her  towards  Almayer's  house  to  see 
the  white  woman's  face,  to  look  close  at  those  eyes, 
to  hear  again  that  voice,  for  the  sound  of  which 
Dain  was  ready  to  risk  his  liberty,  his  life  even. 
She  had  seen  her  many  times  ;  she  had  heard  her 
voice  daily  for  many  months  past.  What  was  there 
in  her  ?  What  was  there  in  that  being  to  make  a 
man  speak  as  Dain  had  spoken,  to  make  him  blind 
to  all  other  faces,  deaf  to  all  other  voices? 

She  left  the  crowd  by  the  riverside,  and  wandered 
aimlessly  among  the  empty  houses,  resisting  the 
impulse  that  pushed  her  towards  Almayer's  cam- 
pong  to  seek  there  in  Nina's  eyes  the  secret  of  her 
own  misery.  The  sun,  mounting  higher,  shortened 
the  shadows  and  poured  down  upon  her  a  flood  of 
light  and  of  stifling  heat  as  she  passed  on  from 
shadow  to  light,  from  light  to  shadow,  amongst  the 
houses,  the  bushes,  the  tall  trees,  in  her  unconscious 
flight  from  the  pain  in  her  own  heart.  In  the 
extremity  of  her  distress  she  could  find  no  words 
to  pray  for  relief,  she  knew  of  no  heaven  to  send 


ALM AVER'S    FOLLY.  156 

her  prayer  to,  and  she  wandered  on  with  tired  feet 
in  the  dumb  surprise  and  terror  at  the  injustice  of 
the  suffering  inflicted  upon  her  without  cause  and 
without  redress. 

The  short  talk  with  Reshid,  the  proposal  of  Ab- 
dulla  steadied  her  a  little  and  turned  her  thoughts  into 
another  channel.  Dain  was  in  some  danger.  He 
was  hiding  from  white  men.  So  much  she  had  over- 
heard last  night.  They  all  thought  him  dead.  She 
knew  he  was  alive,  and  she  knew  of  his  hiding  place. 
What  did  the  Arabs  want  to  know  about  the  white 
men?  The  white  men  want  with  Dain?  Did  they 
wish  to  kill  him  ?  She  could  tell  them  all  —  no,  she 
would  say  nothing,  and  in  the  night  she  would  go  to 
him  and  sell  him  his  life  for  a  word,  for  a  smile,  for 
a  gesture  even,  and  be  his  slave  in  far-off  countries, 
away  from  Nina.  But  there  Avere  dangers.  The 
one-eyed  Babalatchi  who  knew  everything;  the 
white  man's  wife  —  she  was  a  witch.  Perhaps  they 
would  tell.  And  then  there  was  Nina.  She  must 
hurry  on  and  see. 

In  her  impatience  she  left  the  path  and  ran 
towards  Almayer's  dwelling  through  the  under- 
growth between  the  palm  trees.  She  came  out  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  where  a  narrow  ditch,  full 
of  stagnant  water  that  overflowed  from  the  river, 
separated  Almayer's  campong  from  the  rest  of  the 
settlement.     The  thick  bushes  growing  on  the  bank 


156  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

were  hiding  from  her  sight  the  hirge  courtyard  with 
its  cooking  shed.  Above  them  rose  several  thin 
columns  of  smoke,  and  from  behind  the  sound  of 
strange  voices  informed  Taminah  that  the  Men  of 
the  Sea  belonging  to  the  warship  had  already  landed 
and  were  camped  between  the  ditch  and  the  house. 
To  the  left  one  of  Almayer's  slave-girls  came  down 
to  the  ditch  and,  bent  over  the  shiny  water,  was 
washing  a  kettle.  To  the  right  the  tops  of  the 
banana  plantation,  visible  above  the  bushes,  swayed 
and  shook  under  the  touch  of  invisible  hands  gather- 
ing the  fruit.  On  the  calm  water  several  canoes 
moored  to  a  heavy  stake  were  crowded  together, 
nearly  bridging  the  ditch  just  at  the  place  where 
Taminah  stood.  The  voices  in  the  courtyard  rose 
at  times  into  an  outburst  of  calls,  replies,  and 
laughter,  and  then  died  away  into  a  silence  that 
soon  was  broken  again  by  a  fresh  clamour.  Now 
and  again  the  thin  blue  smoke  rushed  out  thicker 
and  blacker,  and  drove  in  odorous  masses  over  the 
creek,  wrapping  her  for  a  moment  in  a  suffocating 
veil;  then,  as  the  fresh  wood  caught  well  alight, 
the  smoke  vanished  in  the  bright  sunlight,  and  only 
the  scent  of  aromatic  wood  drifted  afar,  to  leeward 
of  the  crackling  fires. 

Taminah  rested  her  tray  on  a  stump  of  a  tree, 
and  remained  standing  with  her  eyes  turned  towards 
Almayer's  house,  whose  roof  and  part  of  a  white- 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  157 

washed  wall  were  visible  over  the  bushes.  The 
slave-girl  finished  her  work,  and  after  looking  for  a 
while  curiously  at  Taminah,  pushed  her  way  through 
the  dense  thicket  back  to  the  courtyard.  Round 
Taminah  there  was  now  a  complete  solitude.  She 
threw  herself  down  on  the  ground,  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands.  Now  when  so  close  she  had  no 
courage  to  see  Nina.  At  every  burst  of  louder 
voices  from  the  courtyard  she  shivered  in  the  fear 
of  hearing  Nina's  voice.  She  came  to  the  resolu- 
tion of  waiting  where  she  was  till  dark,  and  then 
going  straight  to  Dain's  hiding  place.  From  where 
she  was  she  could  watch  the  movements  of  white 
men,  of  Nina,  of  all  Dain's  friends,  and  of  all  his 
enemies.  Both  were  hateful  alike  to  her,  for  both 
would  take  him  away  beyond  her  reach.  She  hid 
herself  in  the  long  grass  to  wait  anxiously  for  the 
sunset  that  seemed  so  slow  to  come. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  ditch,  behind  the  bush, 
by  the  clear  fires,  the  seamen  of  the  frigate  had 
encamped  on  the  hospitable  invitation  of  Almayer. 
Almayer,  roused  out  of  his  apathy  by  the  prayers 
and  importunity  of  Nina,  had  managed  to  get  down 
in  time  to  the  jetty  so  as  to  receive  the  officers  at 
their  landing.  The  lieutenant  in  command  accepted 
his  invitation  to  his  house  with  the  remark  that  in 
any  case  their  business  was  with  Almayer  —  and 
perhaps    not    very    pleasant,    he    added.     Almayer 


158  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY 

hardly  heard  him.  He  shook  hands  with  them 
absently  and  led  the  way  towards  the  house.  He 
was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  polite  words  of  wel- 
come he  greeted  the  strangers  with,  and  afterwards 
repeated  several  times  over  again  in  his  efforts  to 
appear  at  ease.  The  agitation  of  their  host  did  not 
escape  the  officer's  eyes,  and  the  chief  confided  to 
his  subordinate,  in  a  low  voice,  his  doubts  as  to  Al- 
mayer's  sobriety.  The  young  sub-lieutenant  laughed 
and  expressed  in  a  whisper  the  hope  that  the  white 
man  was  not  intoxicated  enough  to  neglect  the  offer 
of  some  refreshments.  "  He  does  not  seem  very 
dangerous,"  he  added,  as  they  followed  Almayer  up 
the  steps  of  the  verandah. 

"  No,  he  seems  more  of  a  fool  than  a  knave  ;  I 
have  heard  of  him,"  returned  the  senior. 

They  sat  around  the  table.  Almayer  with  shaking 
hands  made  gin  cocktails,  offered  them  all  round, 
and  drank  himself,  with  every  gulp  feeling  stronger, 
steadier,  and  better  able  to  face  all  the  difficulties  of 
his  position.  Ignorant  of  the  fate  of  the  brig  he  did 
not  suspect  the  real  object  of  the  officer's  visit.  He 
had  a  general  notion  that  something  must  have  leaked 
out  about  the  gunpowder  trade,  but  apprehended 
nothing  beyond  some  temporary  inconvenience. 
After  emptying  his  glass  he  began  to  chat  easily, 
lying  back  in  his  chair  with  one  of  his  legs  thrown 
negligently  over  the  arm.     The  lieutenant  astride  on 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  169 

his  chair,  a  glowing  cheroot  in  the  corner  of  his 
mouth,  listened  with  a  sly  smile  from  behind  the 
thick  volumes  of  smoke  that  escaped  from  his  com- 
pressed lips.  The  young  sub-lieutenant,  leaning 
with  both  elbows  on  the  table,  his  head  between  his 
hands,  looked  on  sleepily  in  the  torpor  induced  by 
fatigue  and  the  gin.     Almayer  talked  on  — 

"•  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  see  white  faces  here.  I 
have  lived  here  many  years  in  great  solitude.  The 
Malays,  you  understand,  are  not  company  for  a  white 
man  ;  moreover  they  are  not  friendly;  they  do  not 
understand  our  ways.  Great  rascals  they  are.  I 
believe  I  am  the  only  white  man  on  the  east  coast 
that  is  a  settled  resident.  We  get  visitors  from 
Macassar  or  Singapore  sometimes  —  traders,  agents, 
or  explorers,  but  they  are  rare.  There  was  a  scien- 
tific explorer  here  a  year  or  more  ago.  He  lived  in 
my  house  :  drank  from  morning  to  night.  He  lived 
joyously  for  a  few  months,  and  Avhen  the  liquor  he 
brought  with  him  was  gone  he  returned  to  Batavia 
with  a  report  on  the  mineral  wealth  of  the  interior. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!     Good,  is  it  not?" 

He  ceased  abruptly  and  looked  at  his  guests  with 
a  meaningless  stare.  While  they  laughed  he  was 
reciting  to  himself  the  old  story  :  "■  Dain  dead,  all 
my  plans  destroyed.  This  is  the  end  of  all  hope 
and  of  all  things."  His  heart  sank  within  him. 
He  felt  a  kind  of  deadly  sickness. 


160  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Very  good.     Capital !  "  exclaimed  both  ofl&cers. 

Alraayer  came  out  of  his  despondency  with 
■another  burst  of  talk. 

"Eh!  what  about  the  dinner?  You  have  got  a 
cook  with  you.  That's  all  right.  There  is  a  cook- 
ing shed  in  the  other  courtyard.  I  can  give  you  a 
goose.  Look  at  my  geese  —  the  only  geese  on  the 
east  coast — perhaps  on  the  whole  island.  Is  that 
your  cook  ?  Very  good.  Here,  Ali,  show  this 
Chinaman  the  cooking  place  and  tell  Mem  Almayer 
to  let  him  have  room  there.  My  wife,  gentle- 
men, does  not  come  out ;  my  daughter  may.  Mean- 
time have  some  more  drink.     It  is  a  hot  day." 

The  lieutenant  took  the  cigar  out  of  his  mouth, 
looked  at  the  ash  critically,  shook  it  off  and  turned 
towards  Almayer. 

"  We  have  a  rather  unpleasant  business  with  you," 
he  said. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  returned  Almayer.  "  It  can  be 
nothing  very  serious,  surely." 

"  If  you  think  an  attempt  to  blow  up  forty  men 
at  least  not  a  serious  matter,  you  will  not  find 
many  people  of  your  opinion,"  retorted  the  officer, 
sharply. 

"  Blow  up  !  What  ?  I  know  nothing  about  it," 
exclaimed  Almayer.  "Who  did  that,  or  tried  to 
do  it?" 

*'  A  man   with   whom   you   had   some    dealings," 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  161 

answered  the  lieutenant.  "  He  passed  here  under 
the  name  of  Dain  Maroola.  You  sold  him  the 
gunpowder  he  had  in  that  brig  we  captured." 

"  How  did  you  hear  about  the  brig  ? "  asked 
Almayer.  "I  know  nothing  about  the  powder  he 
may  have  had." 

"  An  Arab  trader  of  this  place  has  sent  the  infor- 
mation about  your  goings  on  here  to  Batavia,  a 
couple  of  months  ago,"  said  the  officer.  "We  were 
waiting  for  the  brig  outside,  but  he  slipped  past  us 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  we  had  to  chase  the 
fellow  to  the  southward.  When  he  sighted  us  he 
ran  inside  the  reefs  and  put  the  brig  ashore.  The 
crew  escaped  in  boats  before  we  could  take  posses- 
sion. As  our  boats  neared  the  craft  it  blew  up 
with  a  tremendous  explosion ;  one  of  the  boats  be- 
ing too  near  got  swamped.  Two  men  drowned  — 
that  is  the  result  of  your  speculation,  Mr.  Almayer. 
Now  we  want  this  Dain.  We  have  good  grounds 
to  suppose  he  is  hiding  in  Sambir.  Do  you  know 
where  he  is  ?  You  had  better  put  yourself  right 
with  the  authorities  as  much  as  possible  by  being 
perfectly  frank  with  me.     Where  is  this  Dain? " 

Almayer  got  up  and  walked  towards  the  balus- 
trade of  the  verandah.  He  seemed  not  to  be 
thinking  of  the  officer's  question.  He  looked  at 
the  body  lying  straight  and  rigid  under  its  white 
cover,  on    which    the    sun,    declining    amongst    the 

M 


162  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

clouds  to  the  westward,  threw  a  pale  tinge  of  red. 
The  lieutenant  waited  for  the  answer,  taking  quick 
pulls  at  his  half-extinguished  cigar.  Behind  them 
Ali  moved  noiselessly  laying  the  table,  ranging 
solemnly  the  ill-assorted  and  shabby  crockery,  the 
tin  spoons,  the  forks  with  broken  prongs,  and  the 
knives  with  saw-like  blades  and  loose  handles.  He 
had  almost  forgotten  how  to  prepare  the  table  for 
white  men.  He  felt  aggrieved ;  Mem  Nina  would 
not  help  him.  He  stepped  back  to  look  at  his 
work  admiringly,  feeling  very  proud.  This  must 
be  right ;  and  if  the  master  afterwards  is  angry 
and  swears,  then  so  much  the  worse  for  Mem  Nina. 
Why  did  she  not  help  ?  He  left  the  verandah  to 
fetch  the  dinner. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Almayer,  will  you  answer  my  ques- 
tion as  frankly  as  it  is  put  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  lieu- 
tenant, after  a  long  silence. 

Almayer  turned  round  and  looked  at  his  inter- 
locutor steadily.  "  If  you  catch  this  Dain,  what  will 
you  do  with  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  officer's  face  flushed.  •'  This  is  not  an 
answer,"  he  said,  annoyed. 

"'  And  what  will  you  do  with  me  ? "  went  on 
Almayer,  not  heeding  the  interruption. 

''  Are  you  inclined  to  bargain  ? "  growled  the 
other.  "  It  would  be  bad  policy,  I  assure  you. 
At   present    I    have   no   orders   about   your  person, 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  163 

but  we  expected  your  assistance  in  catching  this 
Malay." 

"  Ah !  "  interrupted  Almayer,  "  just  so  :  you  can 
do  nothing  without  me,  and  I,  knowing  the  man 
well,  am  to  help  you  in  catching  him." 

"  This  is  exactly  what  we  expect,"  assented  the 
officer.  "  You  have  broken  the  law,  Mr.  Almayer, 
and  you  ought  to  make  amends." 

"  And  save  myself  ?  " 

*'  Well,  in  a  sense  yes.  Your  head  is  not  in  any 
danger,"  said  the  lieutenant,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"•  Very  well,"  said  Almayer,  with  decision,  ''  I  shall 
deliver  the  man  up  to  you." 

Both  officers  rose  to  their  feet  quickly,  and  looked 
for  their  side-arms,  which  they  had  unbuckled. 
Almayer  laughed  harshly. 

"  Steady,  gentlemen  !  "  he  exclaimed.  '*  In  my 
own  time  and  in  my  own  way.  After  dinner,  gen- 
tlemen, you  shall  have  him." 

"  This  is  preposterous,"  urged  the  lieutenant. 
'*■  Mr.  Almayer,  this  is  no  joking  matter.  The  man 
is  a  criminal.  He  deserves  to  hang.  While  we 
dine  he  may  escape  ;  the  rumour  of  our  arrival " 

Almayer  walked  towards  the  table.  "  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honour,  gentlemen,  that  he  shall  not 
escape  ;    I  have  him  safe  enough." 

"•The  arrest  shall  be  effected  before  dark,"  re- 
marked the  young  sub. 


]M  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  I  shall  hold  you  responsible  for  any  failure.  We 
are  ready,  but  can  do  nothing  just  now  without 
you,"  added  the  senior,  with  evident  annoyance. 

Almayer  made  a  gesture  of  assent.  "  On  my  word 
of  honour,"  he  repeated  vaguely.  "  And  now  let  us 
dine,"  he  added  briskly. 

Nina  came  through  the  doorway  and  stood  for  a 
moment  holding  the  curtain  aside  for  Ali  and  the 
old  Malay  woman  bearing  the  dishes;  then  she  moved 
towards  the  three  men  by  the  table. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  Almayer,  pompously.  "  This  is 
my  daughter.  Nina,  these  gentlemen,  officers  of  the 
frigate  outside,  have  done  me  the  honour  to  accept 
my  hospitality." 

Nina  answered  the  low  bows  of  the  two  officers  by 
a  slow  inclination  of  the  head  and  took  her  place  at 
the  table  opposite  her  father.  All  sat  down.  The 
coxswain  of  the  steam  launch  came  up  carrying  some 
bottles  of  wine. 

"  You  will  allow  me  to  have  this  put  upon  the 
table  ?  "  said  the  lieutenant  to  Almayer. 

"  What !  Wine !  You  are  very  kind.  Certainly. 
I  have  none  myself.     Times  are  very  hard." 

The  last  words  of  his  reply  were  spoken  by 
Almayer  in  a  faltering  voice.  The  thought  that 
Dain  was  dead  recurred  to  him  vividly  again,  and 
he  felt  as  if  an  invisible  hand  was  gripping  his  throat. 
He  reached  for  the  gin  bottle  while  they  were  uncork- 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  165 

ing  the  wine  and  swallowed  a  big  gulp.  The  lieu- 
tenant, who  was  speaking  to  Nina,  gave  him  a  quick 
glance.  The  young  sub  began  to  recover  from  the 
astonishment  and  confusion  caused  by  Nina's  unex- 
pected appearance  and  great  beauty.  "  She  was  very 
beautiful  and  imposing,"  he  reflected,  "but  after  all 
a  half-caste  girl."  This  thought  caused  him  to  pluck 
up  heart  and  look  at  Nina  sideways.  Nina,  with 
composed  face,  was  answering  in  a  low,  even  voice 
the  elder  officer's  polite  questions  as  to  the  country 
and  her  mode  of  life.  Almayer  pushed  his  plate 
away  and  drank  his  guest's  wine  in  gloomy  silence. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

"Can  I  believe  what  you  tell  me?  It  is  like 
a  tale  for  men  that  listen  only  half  awake  by  the 
camp  fire,  and  it  seems  to  have  run  off  a  woman's 
tongue." 

"  Who  is  there  here  for  me  to  deceive,  O  Rajah  ?  " 
answered  Babalatchi.  "Without  you  I  am  nothing. 
All  I  have  told  you  I  believe  to  be  true.  I  have 
been  safe  for  many  years  in  the  hollow  of  your 
hand.  This  is  no  time  to  harbour  suspicions.  The 
danger  is  very  great.  We  should  advise  and  act  at 
once,  before  the  sun  sets." 

"Right.     Right,"  muttered  Lakamba,  pensively. 

They  had  been  sitting  for  the  last  hour  together 
in  the  audience  chamber  of  the  Rajah's  house,  for 
Babalatchi,  as  soon  as  he  had  witnessed  the  landing 
of  the  Dutch  officers,  had  crossed  the  river  to  report 
to  his  master  the  events  of  the  morning,  and  to 
confer  with  him  upon  the  line  of  conduct  to  pursue 
in  the  face  of  altered  circumstances.  They  were 
both  puzzled  and  frightened  by  the  unexpected  turn 
the   events   had   taken.     The   Rajah,  sitting   cross- 

106 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  167 

legged  on  his  chair,  looked  fixedly  at  the  floor; 
Babalatchi  was  squatting  close  by  in  an  attitude  of 
deep  dejection. 

"And  where  did  you  say  he  is  hiding  now?" 
asked  Lakamba,  breaking  at  last  the  silence,  full  of 
gloomy  forebodings,  in  which  they  both  had  been 
lost  for  a  long  while. 

"In  Bulangi's  clearing  —  the  furthest  one,  away 
from  the  house.  They  went  there  that  very  night. 
The  white  man's  daughter  took  him  there.  She 
told  me  so  herself,  speaking  to  me  openl}-,  for  she  is 
half  white  and  has  no  decency.  She  said  she  was 
waiting  for  him  while  he  was  here;  then,  after  a 
long  time,  he  came  out  of  the  darkness  and  fell  at 
her  feet  exhausted.  He  lay  like  one  dead,  but  she 
brought  him  back  to  life  in  her  arms,  and  made  him 
breathe  again  with  her  own  breath.  That  is  what  she 
said,  speaking  to  my  face,  as  I  am  speaking  now  to 
you.  Rajah.  She  is  like  a  white  woman  and  knows 
no  shame." 

He  paused,  deeply  shocked.  Lakamba  nodded 
his  head.     "Well,  and  then?"  he  asked. 

"They  called  the  old  woman,"  went  on  Baba- 
latchi, "  and  he  told  them  all  —  about  the  brig,  and 
how  he  tried  to  kill  many  men.  He  knew  the  Orang 
Blanda  were  very  near,  although  he  had  said  noth- 
ing to  us  about  that;  he  knew  his  great  danger.  He 
thought  he  had   killed  many,  but  there  were  only 


168  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

two  dead,  as  I  have  heard  from  the  men  of  the  sea 
that  came  in  the  warship's  boats." 

"And  the  other  man,  he  that  was  found  in  the 
river?"  interrupted  Lakamba. 

"  That  was  one  of  his  boatmen.  When  his  canoe 
was  overturned  by  the  logs  those  two  swam  together, 
but  the  other  man  must  have  been  hurt.  Dain 
swam,  holding  him  up.  He  left  him  in  the  bushes 
when  he  went  up  to  the  house.  When  they  all 
came  down  his  heart  had  ceased  to  beat;  then  the 
old  woman  spoke ;  Dain  thought  it  was  good.  He 
took  off  his  anklet  and  broke  it,  twisting  it  round 
the  man's  foot.  His  ring  he  put  on  that  slave's 
hand.  He  took  off  his  sarong  and  clothed  that  thing 
that  wanted  no  clothes,  the  two  women  holding  it 
up  meanwhile,  their  intent  being  to  deceive  all  eyes 
and  to  mislead  the  minds  in  the  settlement,  so  that 
they  could  swear  to  the  thing  that  was  not,  and  that 
there  could  be  no  treachery  when  the  white  men 
came.  Then  Dain  and  the  white  woman  departed 
to  call  up  Bulangi  and  find  a  hiding  place.  The 
old  woman  remained  by  the  body." 

"Hai!"  exclaimed  Lakamba.  "She  has  wis- 
dom." 

"Yes,  she  has  a  Devil  of  her  own  to  whisper 
counsel  in  her  ear,"  assented  Babalatchi.  "She 
dragged  the  body  with  great  toil  to  the  point  where 
many  logs  were  stranded.     All  these   things  were 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  169 

done  in  the  darkness  after  the  storm  had  passed 
away.  Then  she  waited.  At  the  first  sign  of  day- 
light she  battered  the  face  of  the  dead  with  a  heavy 
stone,  and  she  pushed  him  amongst  the  logs.  She 
remained  near,  watching.  At  sunrise  Mahmat 
Banjer  came  and  found  him.  They  all  believed; 
I  myself  was  deceived,  but  not  for  long.  The  white 
man  believed,  and,  grieving,  fled  to  his  house. 
When  we  were  alone  I,  having  doubts,  spoke  to  the 
woman,  and  she,  fearing  my  anger  and  your  might, 
told  me  all,  asking  for  help  in  saving  Dain." 

""He  must  not  fall  in  the  hands  of  the  Orang 
Blanda,"  said  Lakamba;  "but  let  him  die,  if  the 
thing  can  be  done  quietly." 

"It  cannot,  Tuan!  Remember  there  is  that 
woman,  who,  being  half  white,  is  ungovernable, 
and  would  raise  a  great  outcry.  Also  the  officers 
are  here.  They  are  angry  enough  already.  Dain 
must  escape ;  he  must  go.  We  must  help  him  now 
for  our  own  safety." 

"  Are  the  officers  very  angry  ?  "  inquired  Lakamba, 
with  interest. 

"They  are.  The  principal  chief  used  strong 
words  when  speaking  to  me  —  to  me  when  I  salaamed 
in  your  name.  I  do  not  think,"  added  Babalatchi, 
after  a  short  pause  and  looking  very  worried  —  "  I 
do  not  think  I  saw  a  white  chief  so  angry  before. 
He  said  we  were  careless  or  even  worse.     He  told 


170  ALMAYER'S    FOLIA. 

nie  he  would  speak  to  the  Rajah,  and  that  I  was  of 
no  account." 

"  Speak  to  the  Rajah ! "  repeated  Lakamba, 
thoughtfully.  "Listen,  Babalatchi:  I  am  sick,  and 
shall  withdraw;  you  cross  over  and  tell  the  white 
men." 

"Yes, "said  Babalatchi,  "I  am  going  over  at  once; 
and  as  to  Dain  ?  " 

"  You  get  him  away  as  you  can  best.  This  is  a 
great  trouble  in  my  heart,"  sighed  Lakamba. 

Babalatchi  got  up,  and,  going  close  to  his  master, 
spoke  earnestly. 

"  There  is  one  of  our  praus  at  the  southern  mouth 
of  the  river.  The  Dutch  warship  is  to  the  north- 
ward watching  the  main  entrance.  I  shall  send 
Dain  off  to-night  in  a  canoe,  by  the  hidden  channels, 
on  board  the  prau.  His  father  is  a  great  prince, 
and  shall  hear  of  our  generosity.  Let  the  prau  take 
him  to  Ampanam.  Your  glory  shall  be  great,  and 
your  reward  in  powerful  friendship.  Almayer  will 
no  doubt  deliver  the  dead  body  as  Dain's  to  the 
officers,  and  the  foolish  white  men  shall  say,  'This 
is  very  good ;  let  there  be  peace. '  And  the  trouble 
shall  be  removed  from  your  heart.  Rajah." 

"True!  true!"  said  Lakamba. 

"  And,  this  being  accomplished  by  me  who  am 
your  slave,  you  shall  reward  with  a  generous  hand. 
That  I  know!     The  white  man  is  grieving  for  the 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  171 

lost  treasure,  in  the  manner  of  white  men  who  thirst 
after  dollars.  Now,  when  ail  other  things  are  in 
order,  we  shall  perhaps  obtain  the  treasure  from  the 
white  man.  Dain  must  escape,  and  Almayer  must 
live." 

"Now  go,  Babalatchi,  go!  "  said  Lakaraba,  getting 
off  his  chair.  "  I  am  very  sick,  and  want  medicine. 
Tell  the  white  chief  so." 

But  Babalatchi  was  not  to  be  got  rid  of  in  this 
summary  manner.  He  knew  that  his  master,  after 
the  manner  of  the  great,  liked  to  shift  the  burden  of 
toil  and  danger  on  to  his  servants'  shoulders,  but  in 
the  difficult  straits  in  which  they  were  now  the 
Rajah  must  play  his  part.  He  may  be  very  sick  for 
the  white  men,  for  all  the  world  if  he  liked,  as  long 
as  he  would  take  upon  himself  the  execution  of  part 
at  least  of  Babalatchi 's  carefully  thought-of  plan. 
Babalatchi  wanted  a  big  canoe  manned  by  twelve 
men  to  be  sent  out  after  dark  towards  Bulangi's 
clearing.  Dain  may  have  to  be  overpowered.  A 
man  in  love  cannot  be  expected  to  see  clearly  the 
path  of  safety  if  it  leads  him  away  from  the  object 
of  his  affections,  argued  Babalatchi,  and  in  that  case 
they  \/oald  have  to  use  force  in  order  to  make  him 
go.  Would  the  Rajah  see  that  trusty  men  manned 
the  canoe  ?  The  thing  must  be  done  secretly.  Per- 
haps the  Rajah  would  come  himself,  so  as  to  bring 
all  the  weight  of  his  authority  to  bear  upon  Dain  if 


172  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

he  should  prove  obstinate  and  refuse  to  leave  his 
hiding  place.  The  Rajah  would  not  commit  himself 
to  a  definite  promise,  and  anxiously  pressed  Baba- 
latchi  to  go,  being  afraid  of  the  white  men  paying 
him  an  unexpected  visit.  The  aged  statesman 
reluctantly  took  his  leave  and  went  into  the  court- 
yard. 

Before  going  down  to  his  boat  Babalatchi  stopped 
for  a  while  in  the  big  open  space  where  the  thick- 
leaved  trees  put  black  patches  of  shadow  which 
seemed  to  float  on  a  flood  of  smooth,  intense  light 
that  rolled  up  to  the  houses  and  down  to  the  stock- 
ade and  over  the  river,  where  it  broke  and  sparkled 
in  thousands  of  glittering  wavelets,  like  a  band 
woven  of  azure  and  gold  edged  with  the  brilliant 
green  of  the  forests  guarding  both  banks  of  the 
Pantai.  In  the  perfect  calm  before  the  coming  of 
the  afternoon  breeze  the  irregularly  jagged  line  of 
tree-tops  stood  unchanging,  as  if  traced  by  an  un- 
steady hand  on  the  clear  blue  of  the  hot  sky.  In 
the  space  sheltered  by  the  high  palisades  there 
lingered  the  smell  of  decaying  blossoms  from  the 
surrounding  forest;  a  taint  of  drying  fish,  with  now 
and  then  a  whiff  of  acrid  smoke  from  the  cooking 
fires  when  it  eddied  down  from  under  the  leafy 
boughs  and  clung  lazily  about  the  burnt-up  grass. 

As  Babalatchi  looked  up  at  the  flagstaff  overtop- 
ping  a  group   of   low  trees  in  the    middle   of  the 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  173 

courtyard,  the  tricolour  flag  of  the  Netherlands 
stirred  slightly  for  the  first  time  since  it  had  been 
hoisted  that  morning  on  the  arrival  of  the  man-of- 
war  boats.  With  a  faint  rustle  of  trees  the  breeze 
came  down  in  light  puffs,  playing  capriciously  for  a 
time  around  this  emblem  of  Lakamba's  power,  that 
was  also  the  mark  of  his  servitude ;  then  the  breeze 
freshened  in  a  sharp  gust  of  wind,  and  the  flag  flew 
out  straight  and  steady  above  the  trees.  A  dark 
shadow  ran  along  the  river,  rolling  over  and  cover- 
ing up  the  sparkle  of  declining  sunlight.  A  big 
white  cloud  sailed  slowly  across  the  darkening  sky, 
and  hung  to  the  westward  as  if  waiting  for  the  sun 
to  join  it  there.  Men  and  things  shook  ofl:"  the 
torpor  of  the  noontide  heat  and  stirred  into  life 
under  the  first  breath  of  the  sea  breeze. 

Babalatchi  hurried  down  to  the  water-gate;  yet 
before  he  passed  through  it  he  paused  to  look  round 
the  courtyard,  with  its  light  and  shade,  with  its 
cheery  fires,  with  the  groups  of  Lakamba's  soldiers 
and  retainers  scattered  about.  His  own  house  stood 
amongst  the  other  buildings  in  that  enclosure,  and 
the  f-'Lttcesman  of  SamHr  asked  himself  with  a  sink- 
ing heart  when  and  how  would  it  be  given  him  to 
return  to  that  house.  He  had  to  deal  with  a  man 
more  dangerous  than  au}^  wild  beast  of  his  experi- 
ence; a  proud  man,  a  man  wilful  after  the  manner 
of  princes,  a  man  in  love.     And  he  was  going  forth 


174  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

to  speak  to  that  man  words  of  cold  and  worldly 
wisdom.  Could  anything  be  more  appalling? 
What  if  that  man  should  take  umbrage  at  some 
fancied  slight  to  his  honour  or  disregard  of  his  affec- 
tions and  suddenly  "amok"?  The  wise  adviser 
would  be  the  first  victim,  no  doubt,  and  death  would 
be  his  reward.  And  underlying  the  horror  of  this 
situation  there  was  the  danger  of  those  meddle- 
some fools,  the  white  men.  A  vision  of  comfortless 
exile  in  far-off  Madura  rose  up  before  Babalatchi. 
Wouldn't  that  be  worse  than  death  itself?  And 
there  was  that  half-white  woman  with  threatening- 
eyes.  How  could  he  tell  what  an  incomprehensible 
creature  of  that  sort  would  or  would  not  do  ?  She 
knew  so  much  that  she  made  the  killing  of  Dain  an 
impossibility.  That  much  was  certain.  And  yet 
tlie  sharp,  rough-edged  kriss  is  a  good  and  discreet 
friend,  thought  Babalatchi,  as  he  examined  his  own 
lovingly,  and  put  it  back  in  the  sheath  with  a  sigh 
of  regret  before  unfastening  his  canoe.  As  he  cast 
off  the  painter,  pushed  out  into  the  stream,  and  took 
up  his  paddle,  he  realised  vividly  how  unsatisfactory 
it  was  to  have  women  mixed  up  in  state  affairs. 
Young  women,  of  course.  For  Mrs.  Almayer's  ma- 
ture wisdom,  and  for  the  easy  aptitude  in  intrigue 
that  comes  with  years  to  the  feminine  mind,  he  felt 
the  most  sincere  respect. 

He  paddled  leisurely,  letting  the  canoe  drift  down 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  175 

as  he  crossed  towards  the  point.  The  sun  was  high 
yet,  and  nothing  pressed.  His  work  would  com- 
mence only  with  the  coming  of  darkness.  Avoiding 
the  Lingard  jetty,  he  rounded  the  point,  and  paddled 
up  the  creek  at  the  back  of  Almayer's  house.  Thei'e 
were  many  canoes  lying  there,  their  noses  all  drawn 
together,  fastened  all  to  the  same  stake.  Babalatcl)i 
pushed  his  little  craft  in  amongst  them  and  stepped 
on  shore.  On  the  other  side  of  the  ditch  something 
moved  in  the  grass. 

"  Who's  that  hiding  ?  "  hailed  Babalatchi.  "  Come 
out  and  speak  to  me." 

Nobody  answered.  Babalatchi  crossed  over,  pass- 
ing from  boat  to  boat,  and  poked  his  staff  viciously 
in  the  suspicious  place.  Taminah  jumped  up  with 
a  cry. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked,  surprised. 
"  I  have  nearly  stepped  on  your  tray.  Am  I  a  Dyak 
that  you  should  hide  at  my  sight?" 

"  I  was  weary,  and  —  I  slept, "  whispered  Taminah, 
confusedly. 

"  You  slept !  You  have  not  sold  anything  to-day, 
a,xA  you  shall  be  beaten  when  you  return  home," 
said  Babalatchi. 

Taminah  stood  before  him  abashed  and  silent. 
Babalatchi  looked  her  over  carefully  with  great  sat- 
isfaction. Decidedly  he  would  offer  fifty  dollars 
more  to  that  thief  Bulangi.     The  girl  pleased  him. 


176  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"Now  you  go  home.  It  is  late,"  he  said  sharply. 
"  Tell  Bulangi  that  I  shall  be  near  his  house  before 
the  night  is  half  over,  and  that  I  want  him  to  make 
all  things  ready  for  a  long  journey.  You  under- 
stand? A  long  journey  to  the  southward.  Tell 
him  that  before  sunset,  and  do  not  forget  my 
words." 

Taminah  made  a  gesture  of  assent,  and  watched 
Babalatchi  recross  the  ditch  and  disappear  through 
the  bushes  bordering  Almayer's  compound.  She 
moved  a  little  further  off  the  creek  and  sank  in  the 
grass  again,  lying  down  on  her  face,  shivering  in 
dry-eyed  misery. 

Babalatchi  walked  straight  towards  the  cooking 
shed,  looking  for  Mrs.  Almayer.  The  courtyard 
was  in  a  great  uproar.  A  strange  Chinaman  had 
possession  of  the  kitchen  fire  and  was  noisily  de- 
manding another  saucepan.  He  hurled  objurga- 
tions, in  the  Canton  dialect  and  bad  Malay,  against 
the  group  of  slave-girls  standing  a  little  way  off, 
half  frightened,  half  amused,  at  his  violence.  From 
the  camping  fires  round  which  the  seamen  of  the 
frigate  were  sitting  came  words  of  encouragement, 
mingled  with  laughter  and  jeering.  In  the  midst 
of  this  noise  and  confusion  Babalatchi  met  Ali,  an 
empty  dish  in  his  hand. 

"Where  are  the  white  men?"  asked  Babalatchi. 

"They   are    eating    in    the    front   verandah,"   an- 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  177 

swered  Ali.  ''Do  not  stop  me,  Tuan.  I  am  giving 
the  white  men  their  food  and  am  busy." 

"Where's  Mem  Almayer?" 

"Inside  in  the  passage.  She  is  listening  to  the 
talk." 

Ali  grinned  and  passed  on;  Babalatchi  ascended 
the  plankway  to  the  rear  verandah,  and  beckoning 
out  Mrs.  Almayer,  engaged  her  in  earnest  conver- 
sation. Through  the  long  passage,  closed  at  the 
further  end  by  the  red  curtain,  they  could  hear  from 
time  to  time  Almayer's  voice  mingling  in  conver- 
sation with  an  abrupt  loudness  that  made  Mrs. 
Almayer  look  significantly  at  Babalatchi. 

"Listen,"  she  said.     "He  has  drunk  much." 

"He  has,"  whispered  Babalatchi.  " He  will  sleep 
heavily  to-night." 

Mrs.  Almayer  looked  doubtful. 

"Sometimes  the  devil  of  strong  gin  makes  him 
keep  awake,  and  he  walks  up  and  down  the  veran- 
dah all  night,  cursing;  then  we  stand  afar  off," 
explained  Mrs.  Almayer,  with  the  fuller  knowledge 
born  of  twenty  odd  years  of  mamed  life. 

'"  But  then  he  does  not  hear,  nor  understand,  and 
his  hand,  of  course,  has  no  strength.  We  do  not 
want  him  to  hear  to-night." 

"No,"  assented  Mrs.  Almayer,  energetically,  but 
in  a  cautiously  subdued  voice.  "H  he  hears  he 
will  kill." 


178  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

Babalatchi  looked  incredulous. 

"Hai  Tuan,  you  may  believe  me.  Have  I  not 
lived  many  years  with  that  man  ?  Have  I  not  seen 
death  in  that  man's  eyes  more  than  once  when  I  was 
younger  and  he  guessed  at  many  things  ?  Had  he 
been  a  man  of  my  own  race  I  would  not  have  seen 
such  a  look  twice ;  but  he " 

With  a  contemptuous  gesture  she  seemed  to  fling 
unutterable  scorn  on  Almayer's  weak-minded  aver- 
sion to  sudden  bloodshed. 

"If  he  has  the  wish  but  not  the  strength,  then 
what  do  we  fear?"  asked  Babalatchi,  after  a  short 
silence,  during  which  they  both  listened  to  Al- 
mayer's loud  talk  till  it  subsided  into  the  murmur 
of  general  conversation.  "What  do  we  fear?"  re- 
peated Babalatchi  again. 

"  To  keep  the  daughter  whom  he  loves  he  would 
strike  into  your  heart  and  mine  without  hesitation," 
said  Mrs.  Almayer.  "When  the  girl  is  gone  he 
will  be  like  the  devil  unchained.  Then  you  and  I 
had  better  beware." 

"I  am  an  old  man  and  fear  not  death,"  answered 
Babalatchi,  with  a  mendacious  assumption  of  in- 
difference.    "But  what  will  you  do?" 

"I  am  an  old  woman,  and  wish  to  live,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Almayer.  "  She  is  my  daughter  also.  I  shall 
seek  safety  at  the  feet  of  our  Rajah,  speaking  in  the 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  179 

name  of  the  past  when  we  both  were  young,  and 
he " 

Babalatchi  raised  his  hand. 

"  Enough.  You  shall  be  protected,"  he  said  sooth- 
ingly. 

Again  the  sound  of  Almayer's  voice  was  heard, 
and  again  interrupting  their  talk,  they  listened  to 
the  confused  but  loud  utterance  coming  in  bursts  of 
unequal  strength,  with  unexpected  pauses  and  noisy 
repetitions  that  made  some  words  and  sentences  fall 
clear  and  distinct  on  their  ears  out  of  the  meaning- 
less jumble  of  excited  shoutings  emphasised  by  the 
thumping  of  Almayer's  fist  upon  the  table.  On  the 
short  intervals  of  silence,  the  high  complaining  note 
of  tumblers  standing  close  together  and  vibrating  to 
the  shock  lingered,  growing  fainter  till  it  leapt  up 
again  into  tumultuous  ringing,  when  a  new  idea 
started  a  new  rush  of  words  and  brought  down  the 
heavy  hand  again.  At  last  the  quarrelsome  shout- 
ing ceased,  and  the  thin  plaint  of  disturbed  glass 
died  away  into  reluctant  quietude. 

Babalatchi  and  Mrs.  Almayer  had  listened  curi- 
ously, their  bodies  bent  and  their  ears  turned  towards 
the  passage.  At  every  louder  shout  they  nodded  at 
each  other  with  a  ludicrous  assumption  of  scandal- 
ised propriety,  and  they  remained  in  the  same  atti- 
tude for  some  time  after  the  noise  had  ceased. 

"This  is  the  devil  of  gin,''  whispered  Mrs.  Al- 


180  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

mayer.  "Yes;  he  talks  like  that  sometimes  when 
there  is  nobody  to  hear  him." 

"What  does  he  say?"  inquired  Babalatchi, 
eagerly.     "You  ought  to  understand." 

"I  have  forgotten  their  talk.  A  little  I  under- 
stood. He  spoke  without  any  respect  of  the  white 
ruler  in  Batavia,  and  of  protection,  and  said  he  had 
been  wronged;  he  said  that  several  times.  More  I 
did  not  understand.     Listen!      Again  he  speaks!" 

"Tse!  tse!  tse!"  clicked  Babalatchi,  trying  to 
appear  shocked,  but  with  a  joyous  twinkle  of  his 
solitary  eye.  "  There  will  be  great  trouble  between 
those  white  men.  I  will  go  round  now  and  see. 
You  tell  your  daughter  that  there  is  a  sudden  and  a 
long  journey  before  her,  with  much  glory  and  splen- 
dour at  the  end.  And  tell  her  that  Dain  must  go, 
or  he  must  die,  and  that  he  will  not  go  alone." 

"No,  he  will  not  go  alone,"  slowly  repeated  Mrs. 
Almayer,  with  a  thoughtful  air,  as  she  crept  into 
the  passage  after  seeing  Babalatchi  disappear  round 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

The  statesman  of  Sambir,  under  the  impulse  of 
vivid  curiosity,  made  his  way  quickly  to  the  front 
of  the  house,  but  once  there  he  moved  slowly  and 
cautiously  as  he  crept  step  by  step  up  the  stairs  of 
the  verandah.  On  the  highest  step  he  sat  down 
quietly,  his  feet  on  the  steps  below,  ready  for  flight 
should   his   presence   prove   unwelcome.       He    felt 


ALMAYER'.S    FOLLY.  181 

pretty  safe  so.  The  table  stood  nearly  endways  to 
him,  and  he  saw  Almayer's  back;  at  Nina  he  looked 
full  face,  and  had  a  side  view  of  both  officers ;  but 
of  the  four  persons  sitting  at  the  table  only  Nina 
and  the  younger  officer  noticed  his  noiseless  arrival. 
The  momentary  dropping  of  Nina's  eyelids  acknowl- 
edged Babalatchi's  presence ;  she  then  spoke  at  once 
to  the  young  sub,  who  turned  towards  her  with 
attentive  alacrity,  but  her  gaze  was  fastened  steadily 
on  her  father's  face  while  Almayer  was  speaking 
uproariously. 

"...  disloyalty  and  unscrupulousness !  What 
have  you  ever  done  to  make  me  loyal?  You  have 
no  grip  on  this  country.  I  had  to  take  care  of  my- 
self, and  when  I  asked  for  protection  I  was  met  with 
threats  and  contempt,  and  had  Arab  slander  thrown 
in  my  face.     I!  a  white  man!" 

"Don't  be  violent,  Almayer,"  remonstrated  the 
lieutenant;  "I  have  heard  all  this  already." 

"  Then  why  do  you  talk  to  me  about  scruples  ?  I 
wanted  money,  and  I  gave  powder  in  exchange. 
How  could  I  know  that  some  of  your  wretched  men 
were  going  to  be  blown  up?     Scruples!     Pah!" 

He  groped  unsteadily  amongst  the  bottles,  trying 
one  after  another,  grumbling  to  himself  the  while. 
"No  more  wine,"  he  muttered  discontentedly. 

"You  have  had  enough,  Almayer,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant, as  he  lighted  a  cigar.     "Is   it  not  time  to 


132  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

deliver  to  us  your  prisoner?  I  take  it  you  have  that 
Dain  Maroola  stowed  away  safely  somewhere.  Still 
we  had  better  get  that  business  over,  and  then  we 
shall  have  more  drink.  Come!  don't  look  at  me 
like  this." 

Almayer  was  staring  with  stony  eyes,  his  trem- 
bling fingers  fumbling  about  his  throat. 

"  Gold, "  he  said  with  difficulty.  "  Hem !  A  hand 
on  the  windpipe,  you  know.  Sure  you  will  excuse. 
I  wanted  to  say  a  little  gold  for  a  little  powder. 
What's  that?" 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  lieutenant,  sooth- 
ingly- 

"  No !  You  don't  know.  Not  one  of  you  knows !  " 
shouted  Almayer.  "The  government  is  a  fool,  I 
tell  you.  Heaps  of  gold.  I  am  the  man  that 
knows;  I  and  another  one.  But  he  won't  speak. 
He  is " 

He  checked  himself  with  a  feeble  smile,  and,  mak- 
ing an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  pat  the  officer  on  the 
shoulder,  knocked  over  a  couple  of  empty  bottles. 

"Personally  you  are  a  fine  fellow,"  he  said  very 
distinctly,  in  a  patronising  manner.  His  head 
nodded  drowsily  as  he  sat  muttering  to  himself. 

The  two  officers  looked  at  each  other  helplessly. 

"This  won't  do,"  said  the  lieutenant,  addressing 
his  junior.     "  Have  the  men  mustered  in  the  com- 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  188 

pound  here.  I  must  get  some  sense  out  of  him. 
Hi!  Almayer!  Wake  up,  man.  Redeem  your  word. 
You  gave  your  word.  You  gave  your  word  of  hon- 
our, you  know." 

Almayer  shook  off  the  officer's  hand  with  impa- 
tience, but  his  ill-humour  vanished  at  once,  and  he 
looked  up,  putting  his  finger  to  the  side  of  his  nose. 

"  You  are  very  young;  there  is  time  for  all  things," 
he  said,  with  an  air  of  great  sagacity. 

The  lieutenant  turned  towards  Nina,  who,  leaning 
back  in  her  chair,  watched  her  father  steadily. 

"Really  I  am  very  much  distressed  by  all  this 
for  your  sake,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  do  not  know," 
he  went  on,  speaking  with  some  embarrassment, 
"whether  I  have  any  right  to  ask  you  anything, 
unless,  perhaps,  to  withdraw  from  this  painful 
scene,  but  I  feel  that  I  must  —  for  your  father's  good 

—  suggest  that  you  should 1  mean  if  you  have 

any  influence  over  him  you  ought  to  exert  it  now  to 
make  him  keep  the  promise  he  gave  me  before  he  — 
before  he  got  into  this  state." 

He  observed  with  discouragement  that  she  seemed 
not  to  take  any  notice  of  what  he  said,  sitting  still 
with  half-closed  eyes. 

"I  trust "  he  began  again. 

"What  is  the  promise  you  speak  of?"  abruptly 
asked  Nina,  leaving  her  seat  and  moving  towards 
her  father. 


184  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Nothing  that  is  not  just  and  proper.  He  prom- 
ised to  deliver  to  us  a  man  who  in  time  of  profound 
peace  took  the  lives  of  innocent  men  to  escape  the 
punishment  he  deserved  for  breaking  the  law.  He 
planned  his  mischief  on  a  large  scale.  It  is  not  his 
fault  if  it  failed,  partially.  Of  course  you  have 
heard  of  Dain  Maroola.  Your  father  secured  him, 
I  understand.  We  know  he  escaped  up  this  river. 
Perhaps  you " 

"  And  he  killed  white  men !  "    interrupted  Nina. 

"I  regret  to  say  they  were  white.  Yes,  two 
white  men  lost  their  lives  through  that  scoundrel's 
freak. " 

"Two  only!"  exclaimed  Nina. 

The  officer  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"Why!  why!  You "  he  stammered,  con- 
fused. 

"There  might  have  been  more,"  interrupted  Nina. 
"  And  when  you  get  this  —  this  scoundrel,  will 
you  go?" 

The  lieutenant,  still  speechless,  bowed  his  assent. 

"  Then  I  would  get  him  for  you  if  1  had  to  seek 
him  in  a  burning  fire,"  she  burst  out  with  passionate 
energy.  "I  hate  the  sight  of  your  white  faces.  I 
hate  the  sound  of  your  gentle  voices.  That  is  the 
way  you  speak  to  women,  dropping  sweet  words 
before  any  pretty  face.  I  have  heard  your  voices 
before.     1  hoped  to  live  here  without   seeing  any 


ALMAYER'S   FOI,LY.  186 

other  white  face  but  this,"  she  added  in  a  gentler 
tone,  touching  lightly  her  father's  cheek. 

Almayer  ceased  his  mumbling  and  opened  his 
eyes.  He  caught  hold  of  his  daughter's  hand  and 
pressed  it  to  his  face,  Avhile  Nina  with  the  other 
hand  smoothed  his  rumpled  grey  hair,  looking  de- 
fiantly over  her  father's  head  at  the  officer,  who  had 
now  regained  his  composure  and  returned  her  look 
with  a  cool,  steady  stare.  Below,  in  front  of  the 
verandah,  they  could  hear  the  tramp  of  seamen  mus- 
tering there  according  to  orders.  The  sub-lieutenant 
came  up  the  steps,  while  Babalatchi  stood  up  un- 
easily and,  with  finger  on  lip,  tried  to  catch  Nina's 
eye. 

"You  are  a  good  girl,"  whispered  Almayer, 
absently,  di'opping  his  daughter's  hand. 

"Father!  father!"  she  cried,  bending  over  him 
with  passionate  entreaty.  "See  those  two  men 
looking  at  us.  Send  them  away.  I  cannot  bear  it 
any  more.  Send  them  away.  Do  what  they  want 
and  let  them  go." 

She  caught  sight  of  Babalatchi  and  ceased  speak- 
ing suddenly,  but  her  foot  tapped  the  floor  with 
rapid  beats  in  a  paroxysm  of  nervous  restlessness. 
The  two  officers  stood  close  together  looking  curi- 
ously. 

"What  has  happened?  What  is  the  matter?" 
"vhispered  the  younger  man. 


186  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

"Don't  know,"  answered,  the  other,  under  hli 
breath.  "One  is  furious,  and  the  other  is  drunk. 
Not  so  drunk,  either.     Queer,  this.     Look!" 

Almayer  had  risen,  holding  on  to  his  daughter's 
arm.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  he  let  go  his 
hold  and  lurched  half-way  across  the  verandah. 
There  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  stood  very- 
straight,  breathing  hard  and  glaring  round  an- 
grily. 

"Are  the  men  ready?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 

"All  ready,  sir." 

"Now,  Mr.  Almayer,  lead  the  way,"  said  the 
lieutenant. 

Almayer  rested  his  eyes  on  him  as  if  he  saw  him 
for  the  first  time. 

"Two  men,"  he  said  thickly.  The  effort  of 
speaking  seemed  to  interfere  with  his  equilibrium. 
He  took  a  quick  step  to  save  himself  from  a  fall, 
and  remained  swaying  backwards  and  forwards. 
"Two  men,"  he  began  again,  speaking  with  diffi- 
culty. "  Two  white  men  —  men  in  uniform  —  hon- 
ourable men.  I  want  to  say  men  of  honour.  Are 
you?" 

"Come!  None  of  that,"  said  the  officer,  impa- 
tiently.    "Let  us  have  that  friend  of  yours." 

"What  do  you  think  I  am?"  asked  Almayer, 
fiercely. 

"  You  are  drunk,  but  not  so  drunk  as  not  to  know 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  187 

what  you  are  doing.  Enough  of  this  tomfoolery," 
said  the  officer,  sternly,  "or  I  will  have  you  put 
under  arrest  in  your  own  house." 

"Arrest!"  laughed  Almayer,  discordantly.  "Ha! 
ho!  ha!  Arrest!  Why,  I  have  been  trying  to  get 
out  of  this  infernal  place  for  twenty  years,  and  I 
can't.  You  hear,  man!  I  can't,  and  never  shall! 
Never !  " 

He  ended  his  words  with  a  sob,  and  walked  un- 
steadily down  the  stairs.  When  in  the  courtyard, 
the  lieutenant  approached  him,  and  took  him  by  the 
arm.  The  sub-lieutenant  and  Babalatchi  followed 
close. 

"That's  better,  Almayer,"  said  the  officer,  en- 
couragingly. "Where  are  you  going  to?  There 
are  only  planks  there.  Here,"  he  went  on,  shaking 
him  slightly,  "do  we  want  the  boats?" 

"No,"  answered  Almayer,  viciously.  "You  want 
a  grave." 

"What?     Wild  again!     Try  to  talk  sense." 

"  Grave ! "  roared  Almayer,  struggling  to  get 
himself  free.  "A  hole  in  the  ground.  Don't  you 
understand?  You  must  be  drunk.  Let  me  go! 
Let  go,  I  tell  you !  " 

He  tore  away  from  the  officer's  grasp,  and  reeled 
towards  the  planks  where  the  body  lay  under  its 
white  cover;  then  he  turned  round  quickly,  and 
faced  the  semicircle  of  interested  faces.     The  sun 


188  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

was  sinking  rapidly,  throwing  long  shadows  of 
house  and  trees  over  the  courtyard,  but  the  light 
lingered  yet  on  the  river,  where  the  logs  went  drift- 
ing past  in  midstream,  looking  very  distinct  and 
black  in  the  pale  red  glow.  The  trunks  of  the  trees 
in  the  forest  on  the  east  bank  were  lost  in  gloom, 
while  their  highest  branches  swayed  gently  in  the 
departing  sunlight.  The  air  felt  heavy  and  cold  in 
the  breeze,  expiring  in  slight  puffs  that  came  over 
the  water. 

Almayer  shivered  as  he  made  an  effort  to  speak, 
and  again  with  an  uncertain  gesture  he  seemed  to 
free  his  throat  from  the  grip  of  an  invisible  hand. 
His  bloodshot  eyes  wandered  aimlessly  from  face  to 
face. 

"  There !  "  he  said  at  last.  "  Are  you  all  there  ? 
He  is  a  dangerous  man." 

He  dragged  at  the  cover  with  hasty  violence,  and 
the  body  rolled  stiffly  off  the  planks  and  fell  at  his 
feet  in  rigid  helplessness. 

"Cold,  perfectly  cold,"  said  Almayer,  looking 
round  with  a  mirthless  smile.  "Sorry  can  do  no 
better.  And  you  can't  hang  him,  either.  As  you 
observe,  gentlemen,"  he  added  gravely,  "there  is  no 
head,  and  hardly  any  neck." 

The  last  ray  of  light  was  snatched  away  from  the 
tree-tops,  the  river  grew  suddenly  dark,  and  in  the 
great  stillness   the   murmur  of   the   flowing  water 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  189 

seemed  to  fill  the  vast  expanse  of  grey  shadow  that 
descended  upon  the  land. 

"This  is  Dain,"  went  on  Almayer  to  the  silent 
group  that  surrounded  him.  "  And  I  have  kept  my 
word.  First  one  hope,  then  another,  and  this  is  my 
last.  Nothing  is  left  now.  You  think  there  is  one 
dead  man  here  ?  Mistake,  I  'sure  you.  I  am  much 
more  dead.  Why  don't  you  hang  me?"  he  sug- 
gested suddenly,  in  a  friendly  tone,  addressing  the 
lieutenant.  "  I  assure,  assure  you  it  would  be  a  mat 
—  matter  of  form  altog  —  altogether." 

These  last  words  he  muttered  to  himself,  and 
walked  zigzagging  towards  his  house.  "Get  out!" 
he  thundered  at  Ali,  who  was  approaching  timidly 
with  offers  of  assistance.  From  afar  scared  groups 
of  men  and  women  watched  his  devious  progress. 
He  dragged  himself  up  the  stairs  by  the  banis- 
ter, and  managed  to  reach  a  chair,  into  which  he 
fell  heavily.  He  sat  for  a  while  panting  with 
exertion  and  anger,  and  looking  round  vaguely 
for  Nina;  then  making  a  threatening  gesture 
towards  the  compound,  where  he  heard  Babalatchi's 
voice,  he  overturned  the  table  with  his  foot  in  a 
great  crash  of  smashed  crockery.  He  muttered  yet 
menacingly  to  himself,  then  his  head  fell  on  his 
breast,  his  eyes  closed,  and  with  a  deep  sigh  he  fell 
asleep. 

That  night  —  for  the  first  time  in  its  history  —  the 


190  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

peaceful  and  flourishing  settlement  of  Sambir  saw 
the  lights  shining  about "  Almayer's  Folly."  These 
were  the  lanterns  of  the  boats  hung  up  by  the  sea- 
men under  the  verandah  where  the  two  officers  were 
holding  a  court  of  inquiry  into  the  truth  of  the  story 
related  to  them  by  Babalatchi.  Babalatchi  had 
regained  all  his  importance.  He  was  eloquent  and 
persuasive,  calling  Heaven  and  Earth  to  witness 
the  truth  of  his  statements.  There  were  also  other 
witnesses.  Mahmat  Banjer  and  a  good  many  others 
underwent  a  close  examination  that  dragged  its 
weary  length  far  into  the  evening.  A  messenger 
was  sent  for  Abdulla,  who  excused  himself  from 
coming  on  the  score  of  his  venerable  age,  but  sent 
Reshid.  Mahmat  had  to  produce  the  bangle,  and 
saw  with  rage  and  mortification  the  lieutenant  put 
it  in  his  pocket,  as  one  of  the  proofs  of  Dain's  death, 
to  be  sent  in  with  the  official  report  of  the  mission. 
Babalatchi 's  ring  was  also  impounded  for  the  same 
purpose,  but  the  experienced  statesman  was  resigned 
to  that  loss  from  the  very  beginning.  He  did  not 
mind  as  long  as  he  was  sure  that  the  white  men 
believed.  He  put  that  question  to  himself  earnestly 
as  he  left,  one  of  the  last,  when  the  proceedings  came 
to  a  close.  He  was  not  certain.  Still,  if  they  be- 
lieved only  for  a  night,  he  would  put  Dain  beyond 
their  reach  and  feel  safe  himself.  He  walked  away 
fast,  looking  from  time  to  time  over  his  shoulder,  in 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  191 

the  fear  of  being  followed,  but  he  saw  and  heard 
nothing. 

"Ten  o'clock,"  said  the  lieutenant,  looking  at  his 
watch  and  yawning.  "  I  shall  hear  some  of  the  cap- 
tain's complimentary  remarks  when  we  get  back. 
Miserable  business,  this." 

"Do  you  think  all  this  is  true?"  asked  the 
younger  man. 

"True!  It  is  just  possible.  But  if  it  isn't  true 
what  can  we  do?  If  we  had  a  dozen  boats  we  could 
patrol  the  creeks;  and  that  wouldn't  be  much  good. 
That  drunken  madman  was  right ;  we  haven't  enough 
hold  on  this  coast.  They  do  what  they  like.  Are 
our  hammocks  slung?" 

"Yes,  I  told  the  coxswain.  Strange  couple  over 
there,"  said  the  sub,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand 
towards  Almayer's  house. 

"Hem!  Queer,  certainly.  What  have  you  been 
telling  her?  I  was  attending  to  the  father  most  of 
the  time." 

"I  assure  you  I  have  been  perfectly  civil,"  pro- 
tested the  other  warmly. 

"All  right.  Don't  get  excited.  She  objects  to 
civility,  then,  from  what  I  understand.  I  thought 
you  may  have  been  tender.  You  know  we  are  on 
service." 

"Well,  of  course.  Never  forget  that.  Coldly 
civil.     That's  all." 


192  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

They  both  laughed  a  little,  and  not  feeling  sleepy 
began  to  pace  the  verandah  side  by  side.  The  moon 
rose  stealthily  above  the  trees,  and  suddenly  changed 
the  river  into  a  stream  of  scintillating  silver.  The 
forest  came  out  of  the  black  void  and  stood  sombre 
and  pensive  over  the  sparkling  water.  The  breeze 
died  aAvay  into  a  breathless  calm. 

Seamanlike,  the  two  officers  tramped  measuredly 
up  and  down  without  exchanging  a  word.  The 
loose  planks  rattled  rhythmically  under  their  steps 
with  obtrusive  dry  sound  in  the  perfect  silence  of 
the  night.  As  they  were  wheeling  round  again  the 
younger  man  stood  attentive. 

"Did  you  hear  that?''  he  asked. 

"No!"  said  the  other.     "Hear  what?" 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  cry.  Ever  so  faint.  Seemed 
a  woman's  voice.  In  that  other  house.  Ah! 
Again!     Hear  it?" 

"No,"  said  the  lieutenant,  after  listening  awhile. 
"You  young  fellows  always  hear  women's  voices. 
If  you  are  going  to  dream  you  had  better  get  into 
your  hammock.     Good-night." 

The  moon  mounted  higher,  and  the  warm  shadows 
grew  smaller  and  crept  away  as  if  hiding  before  the 
cold  and  cruel  light. 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  It  has  set  at  last,"  said  Nina  to  her  mother, 
pointing  towards  the  hills  behind  which  the  sun 
had  sunk.  "  Listen,  mother,  I  am  going  now  to 
Bulangi's  creek,  and  if  I  should  never  return " 

She  interrupted  herself,  and  something  like  doubt 
dimmed  for  a  moment  the  fire  of  suppressed  exalta- 
tion that  had  glowed  in  her  eyes  and  had  illuminated 
the  serene  impassiveness  of  her  features  with  a 
ray  of  eager  life  during  all  that  long  day  of  ex- 
citement —  the  day  of  joy  and  anxiety,  of  hope 
and  terror,  of  vague  grief  and  indistinct  delight. 
While  the  sun  shone  with  that  dazzling  light  in 
which  her  love  was  born  and  grew  till  it  possessed 
her  whole  being,  she  was  kept  firm  in  her  un- 
wavering resolve  by  the  mysterious  whisperings  of 
desire  which  filled  her  heart  with  impatient  longing 
for  the  darkness  that  would  mean  the  end  of  danger 
and  strife,  the  beginning  of  happiness,  the  fulfilling 
of  love,  the  completeness  of  life.  It  had  set  at 
last!  The  short  tropical  twilight  went  out  before 
she  could  draw  the  long  breath  of  relief  :  and  now 

O  lfl.3 


194  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

the  sudden  darkness  seemed  to  be  full  of  menacing 
voices  calling  upon  her  to  rush  headlong  into  the 
unknown  ;  to  be  true  to  her  own  impulses,  to  give 
herself  up  to  the  passion  she  had  evoked  and 
shared.  He  was  waiting!  In  the  solitude  of  the 
secluded  clearing,  in  the  vast  silence  of  the  forest 
he  was  waiting  alone,  a  fugitive  in  fear  of  his  life. 
Indifferent  to  his  danger  he  was  waiting  for  her. 
It  was  for  her  only  that  he  had  come  ;  and  now 
as  the  time  approached  when  he  should  have  his 
reward,  she  asked  herself  with  dismay  what  meant 
that  chilling  doubt  of  her  own  will  and  of  her 
own  desire?  With  an  effort  she  shook  off  the  fear 
of  the  passing  weakness.  He  should  have  his  re- 
ward. Her  woman's  love  and  her  woman's  honour 
overcame  the  faltering  distrust  of  that  unknown 
future  waiting  for  her  in  the  darkness  of  the  river. 

"No,  you  shall  not  return,"  muttered  Mrs.  Al- 
mayer,  prophetically.     "  Without  you  he  will   not 

go,  and  if  he  remains  here "     She  waved  her 

hand  towards  the  lights  of  "  Almayer's  Folly,"  and 
the  unfinished  sentence  died  out  in  a  threatening 
murmur. 

The  two  women  had  met  behind  the  house,  and 
now  were  walking  slowly  together  towards  the 
creek  where  all  the  canoes  were  moored.  Arrived 
at  the  fringe  of  bushes  they  stopped  by  a  common 
impulse,  and  Mrs.  Almayer,  laying  her  hand  on  her 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  195 

daughter's  arm,  tried  in  vain  to  look  close  into  the 
girl's  averted  face.  When  she  attempted  to  speak, 
her  first  words  were  lost  in  a  stifled  sob  that 
sounded  strangely  coming  from  that  woman  who,  of 
all  human  passions,  seemed  to  know  only  those  of 
anger  and  hate. 

"  You  are  going  away  to  be  a  great  Ranee,"  she 
said  at  last,  in  a  voice  that  was  steady  enough  now, 
••'  and  if  you  be  wise  you  shall  have  much  power  that 
will  endure  many  days,  and  even  last  into  your  old 
age.  What  have  I  been?  A  slave  all  my  life,  and 
I  have  cooked  rice  for  a  man  who  had  no  courage 
and  no  wisdom.  Hai !  1  !  even  I,  was  given  in 
gift  by  a  chief  and  a  warrior  to  a  man  that  was 
neither.     Hai !     Hai ! " 

She  wailed  to  herself  softly,  lamenting  the  lost 
possibilities  of  murder  and  mischief  that  could  have 
fallen  to  her  lot  had  she  been  mated  with  a  congenial 
spirit.  Nina  bent  down  over  Mrs.  Almayer's  slight 
form  and  scanned  attentively,  under  the  stars  that 
had  rushed  out  on  the  black  sky  and  now  hung 
breathless  over  that  strange  parting,  her  mother's 
shrivelled  features,  and  looked  close  into  the  sunken 
eyes  that  could  see  into  her  own  dark  future  by  the 
light  of  a  long  and  a  painful  experience.  Again  she 
felt  herself  fascinated,  as  of  old,  by  her  mother's 
exalted  mood  and  by  the  oracular  certainty  of  ex- 
pression which,  together  with  her  fits  of   violence, 


196  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

had  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  reputation  for 
witchcraft  she  enjoyed  in  the  settlement. 

"  I  was  a  slave,  and  you  shall  be  a  queen,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Almayer,  looking  straight  before  her  ;  "  but 
remember  men's  strength  and  their  weakness.  Trem- 
ble before  his  anger,  so  that  he  may  see  your  fear  in 
the  light  of  day;  but  in  your  heart  you  may  laugh, 
for  after  sunset  he  is  your  slave." 

"  A  slave  !  He  !  The  master  of  life  !  You  do 
not  know  him,  mother." 

Mrs.  Almayer  condescended  to  laugh  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  You  speak  like  a  fool  of  a  white  woman,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  What  do  you  know  of  men's  anger 
and  of  men's  love  ?  Have  you  watched  the  sleep  of 
men  weary  of  dealing  death?  Have  you  felt  about 
you  the  strong  arm  that  could  drive  a  kriss  deep 
into  a  beating  heart?  Yah!  you  are  a  white  woman, 
and  ought  to  pray  to  a  woman-god ! " 

"  Why  do  you  say  this  ?  I  have  listened  to  your 
words  so  long  that  I  have  forgotten  my  old  life. 
If  I  was  white  would  I  stand  here,  ready  to  go? 
Mother,  I  shall  return  to  the  house  and  look  once 
more  at  my  father's  face." 

•'  No  !  "  said  Mrs.  Almayer,  violently.  "  No,  he 
sleeps  now  the  sleep  of  gin ;  and  if  you  went  back 
he  might  awake  and  see  you.      No,  he  shall  never 


ALMAYER'S  FOLLY.  197 

see  you.  When  the  terrible  old  man  took  you  away 
from  me  when  you  were  little,  you  remember " 

"  It  was  such  a  long  time  ago,"  murmured  Nina. 

"I  remember,"  went  on  Mrs.  Almayer,  fiercely. 
"  I  wanted  to  look  at  your  face  again.  He  said  ho  ! 
I  heard  you  cry  and  jumped  into  the  river.  You 
were  his  daughter  then ;  you  are  my  daughter  now. 
Never  shall  you  go  back  to  that  house ;  you  shall 
never  cross  this  courtyard  again.     No !  no  ! " 

Her  voice  rose  almost  to  a  shout.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  creek  there  was  a  rustle  in  the  long  grass. 
The  two  woman  heard  it,  and  listened  for  a  while  in 
startled  silence. 

"  I  shall  go,"  said  Nina,  in  a  cautious  but  intense 
whisper.  "  What  is  your  hate  or  your  revenge  to 
me?" 

She  moved  towards  the  house,  Mrs.  Almayer 
clinging  to  her  and  trying  to  pull  her  back. 

"  Stop,  you  shall  not  go  !  "  she  gasped. 

Nina  pushed  away  her  mother  impatiently  and 
gathered  up  her  skirts  for  a  quick  run,  but  Mrs. 
Almayer  ran  forward  and  turned  round,  facing  her 
daughter  with  outstretched  arms. 

"  If  you  move  another  step,"  she  exclaimed,  breath- 
ing quickly,  "  I  shall  cry  out.  Do  you  see  those 
lights  in  the  big  house  ?  There  sit  two  white  men, 
angry  because  they  cannot  have  the  blood  of  the  man 
you  love.     And  in  those  dark  houses,"  she  continued, 


198  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

more  calmly  as  she  pointed  towards  the  settlement, 
"  mv  voice  could  wake  up  men  that  would  lead  the 
Orang  Blanda  soldiers  to  him  who  is  waiting  —  for 
you." 

She  could  not  see  her  daughter's  face,  but  the 
white  figure  before  her  stood  silent  and  irresolute 
in  the  darkness.  Mrs.  Almayer  pursued  her  ad- 
vantage. 

^  Give  up  your  old  life  !  Forget !  "  she  said  in 
entreating  tones.  "Forget  that  you  ever  looked 
at  a  white  face ;  forget  their  words ;  forget  their 
thoughts.  They  speak  lies.  And  they  think  lies 
because  they  despise  us  that  are  better  than  they 
are,  but  not  so  strong.  Forget  their  friendship  and 
their  contempt ;  forget  their  many  gods.  Girl,  why 
do  you  want  to  remember  the  past  when  there  is  a 
warrior  and  a  chief  ready  to  give  many  lives  —  his 
own  life  —  for  one  of  your  smiles  ?  " 

While  she  spoke  she  pushed  gently  her  daughter 
towards  the  canoes,  hiding  her  own  fear,  anxiety, 
and  doubt  under  the  flood  of  passionate  words  that 
left  Nina  no  time  to  think  and  no  opportunity  to 
protest,  even  if  she  had  wished  it.  But  she  did 
not  wish  it  now.  At  the  bottom  of  that  sudden 
desire  to  look  again  at  her  father's  face  there  was 
no  strong  affection.  She  felt  no  scruples  and  no 
remorse  at  leaving  suddenly  that  man  whose  senti- 
ment towards  herself  she  could  not  understand,  she 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  199 

could  not  even  see.  There  was  only  an  instinctive 
clinging  to  old  life,  to  old  habits,  to  old  faces  ;  that 
fear  of  finality  which  lurks  in  every  human  breast 
and  prevents  so  many  heroisms  and  so  many  crimes. 
E'er  years  she  had  stood  between  her  mother  and  her 
father,  the  one  so  strong  in  her  weakness,  the  other 
so  weak  where  he  could  have  been  strong.  Between 
those  two  beings  so  dissimilar,  so  antagonistic,  she 
stood  with  mute  heart  wondering  and  angry  at  the 
fact  of  her  own  existence.  It  seemed  so  unreason- 
able, so  humiliating  to  be  flung  there  in  that  settle- 
ment and  to  see  the  days  rush  by  into  the  past, 
without  a  hope,  a  desire,  or  an  aim  that  would  justify 
the  life  she  had  to  endure  in  ever-growing  weariness. 
She  had  little  belief  and  no  sympathy  Cor  her  father's 
dreams ;  but  the  savage  ravings  of  her  mother  chanced 
to  strike  a  responsive  chord,  deep  down  somewhere 
in  her  despairing  heart ;  and  slie  dreamed  dreams  of 
her  own  with  the  persistent  absorption  of  a  captive 
thinking  of  liberty  within  the  walls  of  his  prison 
cell.  With  the  coming  of  Dain  she  found  the  road 
to  freedom  by  obeying  the  voice  of  the  new-born 
impulses,  and  with  surprised  joy  she  thought  she 
could  read  in  his  eyes  the  answer  to  all  the  ques- 
tionings of  her  heart.  She  understood  now  the 
reason  and  the  aim  of  life  ;  and  in  the  triumphant 
unveiling  of  that  mystery  she  threw  away  disdain- 
fully her  past  with  its  sad  thoughts,  its  bitter  feel- 


20()  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

ings,  and  its  faint  affections,  now  withered  and  dead 
in  contact  with  her  fierce  passion. 

Mrs.  Almayer  unmoored  Nina's  own  canoe  and, 
straightening  herself,  painfully  stood,  painter  in 
hand,  looking  at  her  daughter. 

"  Quick,"  she  said ;  "  get  away  before  the  moon 
rises,  while  the  river  is  dark.  I  am  afraid  of 
AbduUa's  slaves.  The  wretches  prowl  in  the  night 
often,  and  might  see  and  follow  you.  There  are 
two  paddles  in  the  canoe." 

Nina  approached  her  mother  and  hesitatingly 
touched  lightly  with  her  lips  the  wrinkled  forehead. 
Mrs.  Almayer  snorted  contemptuously  in  protest 
against  that  tenderness  which  she,  nevertheless, 
feared  could  be  contagious. 

•'  Shall  I  ever  see  you  again,  mother  ?  "  murmured 
Nina. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Almayer,  after  a  short  silence. 
"  Why  should  you  return  here  where  it  is  my  fate 
to  die?  You  shall  live  far  away  in  splendour  and 
might.  When  1  hear  of  white  men  driven  from 
the  islands,  then  I  shall  know  that  you  are  alive, 
and  that  you  remember  my  words." 

"  I  shall  always  remember,"  returned  Nina, 
earnestly;  "but  where  is  my  power,  and  what  can 
I  do?" 

"  Do  not  let  him  look  too  long  in  your  eyes,  nor 
lay  his  head  on  your  knees  without  reminding  him 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  201 

that  men  should  fight  before  they  rest.  And  if  he 
lingers,  give  him  his  kriss  yourself  and  bid  him  go, 
as  the  wife  of  a  mighty  prince  should  do  when  the 
enemies  are  near.  Let  him  slay  the  white  men 
that  come  to  us  to  trade  with  prayers  on  their  lips 
and  loaded  guns  in  their  hands.  Ah  "  —  she  ended 
with  a  sigh  —  "  they  are  on  every  sea,  and  on  every 
shore ;  and  they  are  very  many  I  " 

She  swung  the  bow  of  the  canoe  towards  the 
river,  but  did  not  let  go  the  gunwale,  keeping  her 
hand  on  it  in  irresolute  thoughtfulness.  Nina  put 
the  point  of  the  paddle  against  the  bank,  ready  to 
shove  off  into  the  stream. 

"What  is  it,  mother?"  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Do  you  hear  anything  ?  " 

••'No,"  said  Mrs.  Almayer,  absently.  "Listen, 
Nina,"  she  continued,  abruptly,  after  a  slight  pause, 
"  in  after  years  there  will  be  other  women " 

A  stifled  cry  in  the  boat  interrupted  her,  and  the 
paddle  rattled  in  the  canoe  as  it  slipped  from 
Nina's  hands,  which  she  put  out  in  a  protesting 
gesture.  Mrs.  Almayer  fell  on  her  knees  on  the 
bank  and  leaned  over  the  gunwale  so  as  to  bring 
her  own  face  close  to  her  daughter's. 

"  There  will  be  other  women,"  she  repeated 
firmly ;  "  I  tell  you  that,  because  you  are  half 
white,  and  may  forget  that  he  is  a  great  chief,  and 
that  such  things  must  be.     Hide  your  anger,  and 


202  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

do  not  let  him  see  on  your  face  the  pain  that  will 
eat  your  heart.  Meet  him  with  joy  in  your  eyes 
and  wisdom  on  your  lips,  for  to  you  he  shall  turn 
in  sadness  or  in  doubt.  As  long  as  he  looks  upon 
many  women  your  power  will  last,  but  should 
there  be  one,  one  only  with  whom  he  seems  to 
forget  you,  then " 

"  I  could  not  live,"  exclaimed  Nina,  covering  her 
face  with  both  her  hands.  "  Do  not  speak  so, 
mother;  it  could  not  be." 

"  Then,"  went  on  Mrs.  Almayer,  steadily,  "  to 
that  woman,  Nina,  show  no  mercy." 

She  moved  the  canoe  down  towards  the  stream 
by  the  gunwale,  and  gripped  it  with  both  her  hands, 
the  bow  pointing  into  the  river. 

"Are  you  crying?"  she  asked  sternly  of  her 
daughter,  who  sat  still  with  covered  face.  "  Arise, 
and  take  your  paddle,  for  he  has  waited  long 
enough.  And  remember,  Nina,  no  mercy ;  and  if 
you  must  strike,  strike  with  a  steady  hand." 

She  put  out  all  her  strength,  and  swinging  her 
body  over  the  water,  shot  the  light  craft  far  into 
the  stream.  When  she  recovered  herself  from  the 
effort  she  tried  vainly  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
canoe  that  seemed  to  have  dissolved  suddenly  into 
the  white  mist  trailing  over  the  heated  waters  of 
the  Pantai.  After  listening  for  a  while  intently  on 
her   knees,  Mrs.   Almayer   rose   with   a   deep  sigh. 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  203 

while  two  tears  wandered  slowly  down  her  withered 
cheeks.  She  wiped  them  off  quickly  with  a  wisp 
of  her  grey  hair  as  if  ashamed  of  herself,  but  could 
not  stifle  another  loud  sigh,  for  her  heart  was 
heavy  and  she  suffered  much,  being  unused  to 
tender  emotions.  This  time  she  fancied  she  had 
heard  a  faint  noise,  like  the  echo  of  her  own  sigh, 
and  she  stopped,  straining  her  ears  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound,  and  peering  apprehensively  towards 
the  bushes  near  her. 

"Who  is  there?"  she  asked,  in  an  unsteady  voice, 
while  her  imagination  peopled  the  solitude  of  the 
riverside  with  ghost-like  forms.  "  Who  is  there  ?  " 
she  repeated  faintly. 

There  was  no  answer :  only  the  voice  of  the  river 
murmuring  in  sad  monotone  behind  the  white  veil 
seemed  to  swell  louder  for  a  moment,  to  die  away 
again  in  a  soft  whisper  of  eddies  washing  against 
the  bank. 

Mrs.  Almayer  shook  her  head  as  if  in  answer  to 
her  own  thoughts,  and  walked  quickly  away  from 
the  bushes,  looking  to  the  right  and  left  watchfully. 
She  went  straight  towards  the  cooking  shed,  observ- 
ing that  the  embers  of  the  fire  there  glowed  more 
brightly  than  usual,  as  if  somebody  had  been  adding 
fresh  fuel  to  the  fires  during  the  evening.  As  she 
approached,  Babalatchi,  who  had  been  squatting  in  the 
warm  glow,  rose  and  met  her  in  the  shadow  outside. 


204  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Is  she  gone  ? "  asked  tlie  anxious  statesman, 
hastily. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Almayer.  "  What  are  the 
white  men  doing  ?     When  did  you  leave  them?  " 

"  They  are  sleeping  now,  I  think.  May  they  never 
wake  !  "  exclaimed  Babalatchi,  fervently.  "  Oh  1 
but  they  are  devils,  and  made  much  talk  and  trouble 
over  that  carcase.  The  chief  threatened  me  twice 
with  his  hand,  and  said  he  would  have  me  tied  up  to 
a  tree.  Tie  me  up  to  a  tree  I  Me!"  he  repeated, 
striking  his  breast  violently. 

Mrs.  Almayer  laughed  tauntingly. 

"  And  you  salaamed  and  asked  for  mercy.  Men 
with  arms  by  their  side  acted  otherwise  when  I  was 
young." 

"  And  where  are  they,  the  men  of  your  youth  ? 
You  mad  woman ! "  retorted  Babalatchi,  angrily. 
''  Killed  by  the  Dutch.  Aha!  But  I  shall  live  to 
deceive  them.  A  man  knows  when  to  fight  and 
when  to  tell  peaceful  lies.  You  would  know  that 
if  you  were  not  a  woman." 

But  Mrs.  Almayer  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 
With  bent  body  and  outstretched  arm  she  appeared 
to  be  listening  to  some  noise  behind  the  shed. 

"  There  are  strange  sounds,"  she  whispered,  with 
evident  alarm.  "  I  have  heard  in  the  air  the  sounds 
of  grief,  as  of  a  sigh  and  weeping.  That  was  by 
the  riverside.     And  now  again  I  heard " 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  206 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Babalatchi,  in  an  altered  voice. 
"  What  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Close  here.  It  was  like  a  breath  long  drawn. 
I  wish  I  had  burnt  the  paper  over  the  body  before 
it  was  buried." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Babalatchi.  "  But  the  white  men 
had  him  thrown  in  a  hole  at  once.  You  know  he 
found  his  death  on  the  river,"  he  added  cheerfully, 
"  and  his  ghost  may  hail  the  canoes,  but  would  leave 
the  land  alone." 

Mrs.  Almayer,  who  had  been  craning  her  neck  to 
look  round  the  corner  of  the  shed,  drew  back  her 
head. 

"  There  is  nobody  there,"  she  said,  reassured.  "  Is 
it  not  time  for  the  Rajah  war-canoe  to  go  to  the 
clearing  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  it  here,  for  I  myself  must 
go,"  explained  Babalatchi.  '*•  I  think  I  will  go  over 
and  see  what  makes  them  late.  When  will  you 
come?     The  Rajah  gives  you  refuge." 

"I  shall  paddle  over  before  the  break  of  day,  I 
cannot  leave  my  dollars  behind,"  muttered  Mrs. 
Almayer. 

They  separated.  Babalatchi  crossed  the  court- 
yard towards  the  creek  to  get  his  canoe,  and  Mrs. 
Almayer  walked  slowly  to  the  house,  ascended  the 
plankway,  and  passing  through  the  back  verandah 
entered   the   passage    leading   to   the   front   of    the 


206  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

hou.se ;  but  before  going  in  she  turned  in  the  door- 
way and  looked  back  at  the  empty  and  silent  court- 
yard, now  lit  up  by  the  rays  of  the  rising  moon. 
No  sooner  had  she  disappeared,  however,  than  a 
vague  shape  flitted  out  from  amongst  the  stalks  of 
the  banana  plantation,  darted  over  the  moonlit  space, 
and  fell  in  the  darkness  at  the  foot  of  the  verandah. 
It  might  have  been  the  shadow  of  a  driving  cloud, 
so  noiseless  and  rapid  was  its  passage,  but  for  the 
trail  of  disturbed  grass,  whose  feathery  heads 
trembled  and  swayed  for  a  long  time  in  the  moon- 
light before  they  rested  motionless  and  gleaming, 
like  a  design  of  silver  sprays  embroidered  on  a 
sombre  background. 

Mrs.  Almayer  lighted  the  cocoanut  lamp,  and  lift- 
ing cautiously  the  red  curtain,  gazed  upon  her  hus- 
band, shading  the  light  with  her  hand.  Almayer, 
huddled  up  in  the  chair,  one  of  his  arms  hanging 
down,  the  other  thrown  across  the  lower  part  of  his 
face  as  if  to  ward  off  an  invisible  enemy,  his  legs 
stretched  straight  out,  slept  heavily,  unconscious  of 
the  unfriendly  eyes  that  looked  upon  him  in  dis- 
paraging criticism.  At  his  feet  lay  the  overturned 
table,  amongst  a  wreck  of  crockery  and  broken 
bottles.  The  appearance  as  of  traces  left  by  a 
desperate  struggle  was  accentuated  by  the  chairs, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  scattered  violently  all 
over   the   place,  and   now   lay  about  the  verandah 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  207 

with  a  lamentable  aspect  of  inebriety  in  their  help- 
less attitudes.  Only  Nina's  big  rocking-chair,  stand- 
ing black  and  motionless  on  its  high  runners,  towered 
above  the  chaos  of  demoralised  furniture,  unflinch- 
ingly dignified  and  patient,  waiting  for  its  burden. 

With  a  last  scornful  look  towards  the  sleeper, 
Mrs.  Almayer  passed  behind  the  curtain  into  her 
own  room.  A  couple  of  bats,  encouraged  by  the 
darkness  and  the  peaceful  aspect  of  affairs,  resumed 
their  silent  and  oblique  gambols  above  Almayer's 
head,  and  for  a  long  time  the  profound  quiet  of  the 
house  was  unbroken,  save  for  the  deep  breathing 
of  the  sleeping  man  and  the  faint  tinkle  of  silver  in 
the  hands  of  the  woman  preparing  for  flight.  In 
the  increasing  light  of  the  moon  that  had  risen  now 
above  the  night  mist,  the  objects  on  the  verandah 
came  out  strongly  outlined  in  black  splashes  of 
shadow  with  all  the  uncompromising  ugliness  of 
their  disorder,  and  a  caricature  of  the  sleeping 
Almayer  appeared  on  the  dirty  whitewash  of  the 
wall  behind  him  in  a  grotesquely  exaggerated  detail 
of  attitude  and  feature  enlarged  to  a  heroic  size. 
The  discontented  bats  departed  in  quest  of  darker 
places,  and  a  lizard  came  out  in  short,  nervous 
rushes,  and,  pleased  with  the  white  table-cloth, 
stopped  on  it  in  breathless  immobility  that  would 
have  suggested  sudden  death  had  it  not  been  for  the 
melodious  call  he  exchanged  with  a  less  adventurous 


208  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

friend  hiding  amongst  the  lumber  in  the  courtyard. 
Then  the  boards  in  the  passage  creaked,  the  lizard 
vanished,  and  Almayer  stirred  uneasily  with  a  sigh: 
slowly,  out  of  the  senseless  annihilation  of  drunken 
sleep,  he  was  returning,  through  the  land  of  dreams, 
to  waking  consciousness.  Almayer's  head  rolled 
from  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  the  oppression  of  his 
dream  :  the  heavens  had  descended  upon  him  like  a 
heavy  mantle,  and  trailed  in  starred  folds  far  under 
him.  Stars  above,  stars  all  round  him  ;  and  from  the 
stars  under  his  feet  rose  a  whisper  full  of  entreaties 
and  tears,  and  sorrowful  faces  flitted  amongst  the 
clusters  of  light  filling  the  infinite  space  below. 
How  escape  from  the  importunity  of  lamentable 
cries  and  from  the  look  of  staring,  sad  eyes  in  the 
faces  which  pressed  round  him  till  he  gasped  for 
breath  under  the  crushing  weight  of  worlds  that 
hung  over  his  aching  shoulders  ?  Get  away  !  But 
how?  If  he  attempted  to  move  he  would  step  off 
into  nothing,  and  perish  in  the  crashing  fall  of  that 
universe  of  which  he  was  the  only  support.  And 
what  were  the  voices  saying  ?  Urging  him  to  move  ! 
Why  ?  Move  to  destruction !  Not  likely !  The 
absurdity  of  the  thing  filled  him  with  indignation. 
He  got  a  firmer  foothold  and  stiffened  his  muscles 
in  heroic  resolve  to  carry  his  burden  to  all  eternity. 
And  ages  passed  in  the  superhuman  labour,  amidst 
the  rush  of  circling  worlds :  in  the  plaintive  murmur 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  209 

of  sorrowful  voices  urging  him  to  desist  before  it  was 
too  late  —  till  the  mysterious  power  that  had  laid 
upon  him  the  giant  task  seemed  at  last  to  seek  his 
destruction.  "With  terror  he  felt  an  irresistible  hand 
shaking  him  by  the  shoulder,  while  the  chorus  of 
voices  swelled  louder  into  an  agonised  prayer  to  go, 
go  before  it  is  too  late.  He  felt  himself  slipping, 
losing  his  balance,  as  something  dragged  at  his  legs, 
and  he  fell.  With  a  faint  cry  he  glided  out  of 
the  anguish  of  perishing  creation  into  an  imperfect 
waking  that  seemed  to  be  still  under  the  spell  of 
his  dream. 

"What?  What?"  he  murmured  sleepily,  with- 
out moving  or  opening  his  eyes.  His  head  still 
felt  heavy,  and  he  had  not  the  courage  to  raise  his 
eyelids.  In  his  ears  there  still  lingered  the  sound 
of  entreating  whisper.  — "Am  I  awake?  —  Why  do 
I  hear  the  voices  ? "  he    argued  to   himself,  hazily. 

—  "I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  horrible  nightmare  yet. 

—  I  have  been  very  drunk.  — What  is  that  shaking 
me  ?  I  am  dreaming  yet.  —  I  must  open  my  eyes 
and  be  done  with  it.  I  am  only  half  awake,  it  is 
evident." 

He  made  an  effort  to  shake  off  his  stupor  and 
saw  a  face  close  to  his,  glaring  at  him  with  star- 
ing eyeballs.  He  closed  his  eyes  again  in  amazed 
horror  and  sat  up  straight  in  the  chair,  trembling 
in  every  limb.  What  was  this  apparition?  —  His 
p 


210  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

own  fancy,  no  doubt.  —  His  nerves  had  been  much 
tried  the  day  before  —  and  then  the  drink !  He 
would  not  see  it  again  if  he  had  the  courage  to 
look.  —  He  would  look  directly.  —  Get  a  little 
steadier  first.  —  So.  —  Now 

He  looked.  The  figure  of  a  woman  standing  in 
the  steely  light,  her  hands  stretched  forth  in  a 
suppliant  gesture,  confronted  him  from  the  far-off 
end  of  the  verandah;  and  in  the  space  between 
him  and  the  obstinate  phantom  floated  the  murmur 
of  words  that  fell  on  his  ears  in  a  jumble  of  tor- 
turing sentences,  the  meaning  of  which  escaped  the 
utmost  efforts  of  his  brain.  Who  spoke  the  Malay 
words  ?  Who  ran  away  ?  Why  too  late  —  and  too 
late  for  what?  What  meant  those  words  of  hate 
and  love  mixed  so  strangely  together,  the  ever- 
recurring  names  falling  on  his  ears  again  and  again 
—  Nina,  Dain;  Dain,  Nina?  Dain  was  dead,  and 
Nina  was  sleeping,  unaware  of  the  terrible  experi- 
ence through  which  he  was  now  passing.  Was  he 
going  to  be  tormented  for  ever,  sleeping  or  waking, 
and  have  no  peace  either  night  or  day?  What  was 
the  meaning  of  this? 

He  shouted  the  last  words  aloud.  The  shadowy 
woman  seemed  to  shrink  and  recede  a  little  from 
him  towards  the  doorway,  and  there  was  a  shriek. 
Exasperated  by  the  incomprehensible  nature  of  his 
torment,  Almayer   made   a  rush    upon   the   appari- 


ALMAVER'S    FOLLY.  211 

tion,  which  eluded  his  grasp,  and  he  brought  up 
heavily  against  the  wall.  Quick  as  lightning  he 
turned  round  and  pursued  fiercely  the  mysterious 
figure  flying  from  him  with  piercing  shrieks  that 
were  like  fuel  to  the  flames  of  his  anger.  Over 
the  furniture,  round  the  overturned  table,  and  now 
he  had  it  cornered  behind  Nina's  chair.  To  the 
left,  to  the  right  they  dodged,  the  chair  rocking 
madly  between  them,  she  sending  out  shriek  after 
shriek  at  every  feint,  and  he  growling  meaningless 
curses  through  his  hard  set  teeth.  "  Oh!  the  fiendish 
noise  that  split  his  head  and  seemed  to  choke  his 
breath.  —  It  would  kill  him.  —  It  must  be  stopped  I  " 
An  insane  desire  to  crush  that  yelling  thing  in- 
duced him  to  cast  himself  recklessly  over  the  chair 
with  a  desperate  grab,  and  they  came  down  together 
in  a  cloud  of  dust  amongst  the  splintered  wood. 
The  last  shriek  died  out  under  him  in  a  faint 
gurgle,  and  he  had  secured  the  relief  of  absolute 
silence. 

He  looked  at  the  woman's  face  under  him.  A 
real  woman  !  He  knew  her.  By  all  that  is  won- 
derful! Taminah!  He  jumped  up  ashamed  of  his 
fury  and  stood  perplexed,  wiping  his  forehead. 
The  girl  struggled  to  a  kneeling  posture  and  em- 
braced his  legs  in  a  frenzied  prayer  for  mercy. 

''  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said,  raising  her.  ''  I  shall 
not  hurt  you.     Why  do  you  come  to  my  house  in 


212  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

the  night  ?  And  if  you  had  to  come,  why  not  go 
behind  the  curtain  where  the  women  sleep?" 

"The  place  behind  the  curtain  is  empty,"  gasped 
Taminah,  catching  her  breath  between  the  words. 
"  There  are  no  women  in  your  house  any  more, 
Tuan.  I  saw  the  old  Mem  go  away  before  I  tried  to 
wake  you.   I  did  not  want  your  women,  I  wanted  you. " 

"  Old  Mem!  "  repeated  Almayer.  "  Do  you  mean 
my  wife  ?  " 

She  nodded  her  head. 

"  But  of  my  daughter  you  are  not  afraid?  "  said 
Almayer. 

"Have  you  not  heard  me?"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Have  I  not  spoken  for  a  long  time  when  you  lay 
there  with  eyes  half  open?     She  is  gone  too." 

"  I  was  asleep.  Can  you  not  tell  when  a  man  is 
sleeping  and  when  awake  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  answered  Taminah  in  a  low  voice  ; 
"sometimes  the  spirit  lingers  close  to  a  sleeping 
body  and  may  hear.  I  spoke  a  long  time  before 
I  touched  you,  and  I  spoke  softly  for  fear  it  would 
depart  at  a  sudden  noise  and  leave  you  sleeping 
for  ever.  I  took  you  by  the  shoulder  only  when 
you  began  to  mutter  words  I  could  not  under- 
stand. Have  you  not  heard,  then,  and  do  you 
know  nothing  ?  " 

"Nothing  of  what  you  said.  What  is  it?  Tell 
again,  if  you  want  me  to  know." 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  213 

He  took  her  by  the  shoulder  and  led  her  unre- 
sisting to  the  front  of  the  verandah  into  a  stronger 
light.  She  wrung  her  hands  with  such  an  appear- 
ance of  grief  that  he  began  to  be  alarmed. 

"  Speak,"  he  said.  "  You  made  noise  enough  to 
wake  even  dead  men.  And  yet  nobody  living 
came,"  he  added  to  himself  in  an  uneasy  whisper. 
"Are  you  mute?     Speak!  "  he  repeated. 

In  a  rush  of  words  which  broke  out  after  a  short 
struggle  from  her  trembling  lips  she  told  him  the 
tale  of  Nina's  love  and  her  own  jealousy.  Several 
times  he  looked  angrily  into  her  face  and  told  her 
to  be  silent ;  but  he  could  not  stop  the  sounds 
that  seemed  to  him  to  run  out  in  a  hot  stream, 
swirl  about  his  feet,  and  rise  in  scalding  waves 
about  him,  higher,  higher,  drowning  his  heart, 
touching  his  lips  with  a  feel  of  molten  lead,  blotting 
out  his  sight  in  scorching  vapour,  closing  over  his 
head,  merciless  and  deadly.  When  she  spoke  of 
the  deception  as  to  Dain's  death  of  which  he  had 
been  the  victim  only  that  day,  he  glanced  again 
at  her  with  terrible  eyes,  and  made  her  falter  for 
a  second,  but  he  turned  away  directly,  and  his 
face  suddenly  lost  all  expression  in  a  stony  stare 
far  away  over  the  river.  Ah !  the  river  !  His  old 
friend  and  his  old  enemy,  speaking  always  with 
the  same  voice  as  he  runs  from  year  to  year  bring- 
ing fortune  or  disappointment,  happiness   or   pain. 


214  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

upon  the  same  varying  but  unchanged  surface  of 
glancing  currents  and  swirling  eddies.  For  many 
years  he  had  listened  to  the  passionless  and  sooth- 
ing murmur  that  sometimes  was  the  song  of  hope, 
at  times  the  song  of  triumph,  of  encouragement ; 
more  often  the  whisper  of  consolation  that  spoke 
of  better  days  to  come.  For  so  many  years !  So 
many  years !  And  now  to  the  accompaniment  of 
that  murmur  he  listened  to  the  slow  and  painful 
beating  of  his  heart.  He  listened  attentively,  won- 
dering at  the  regularity  of  its  beats.  He  began 
to  count  mechanically.  One,  two.  Why  count? 
At  the  next  beat  it  must  stop.  No  heart  could 
suffer  so  and  beat  so  steadily  for  long.  Those 
regular  strokes  as  of  a  muffled  hammer  that  rang 
in  his  ears  must  stop  soon.  Still  beating  unceasing 
and  cruel.  No  man  can  bear  this  ;  and  is  this  the 
last,  or  will  the  next  one  be  the  last  ?  —  How  much 
longer  ?  O  God !  how  much  longer  ?  His  hand 
weighed  heavier  unconsciously  on  the  girl's  shoul- 
der, and  she  spoke  the  last  words  of  her  story 
crouching  at  his  feet  with  tears  of  pain  and  shame 
and  anger.  Was  her  revenge  to  fail  her?  This 
white  man  was  like  a  senseless  stone.  Too  late ! 
Too  late! 

"  And  you  saw  her  go  ?  "  Almayer's  voice  sounded 
harshly  above  her  head. 

"  Did    I    not   tell   you  ? "    she    sobbed,    trying    to 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  215 

wriggle  gently  out  from  under  his  grip.  "  Did  1 
not  tell  you  that  I  saw  the  witchwoman  push  the 
canoe?  I  lay  hidden  in  the  grass  and  heard  all  the 
words.  She  that  we  used  to  call  the  white  Mem 
wanted  to  return  to  look  at  your  face,  but  the  witch- 
woman  forbade  her,  and " 

She  sank  lower  yet  on  her  elbow,  turning  half 
round  under  the  downward  push  of  the  heavy  hand, 
her  face  lifted  up  to  him  with  spiteful  eyes. 

"  And  she  obeyed,"  she  shouted  out  in  a  half- 
laugh,  half -cry  of  pain.  "  Let  me  go,  Tuan.  Why 
are  you  angry  with  me  ?  Hasten,  or  you  shall  be  too 
late  to  show  your  anger  to  the  deceitful  woman." 

Almayer  dragged  her  up  to  her  feet  and  looked 
close  into  her  face  while  she  struggled,  turning  her 
head  away  from  his  wild  stare. 

"  Who  sent  you  here  to  torment  me  ?  "  he  asked, 
violently.     "I  do  not  believe  you.     You  lie." 

He  straightened  his  arm  suddenly  and  flung  her 
across  the  verandah  towards  the  doorway,  where  she 
lay  immobile  and  silent,  as  if  she"  had  left  her  life  in 
his  grasp,  a  dark  heap,  without  a  sound  or  a  stir. 

''  Oh  I  Nina  ! "  whispered  Almayer,  in  a  voice  in 
which  reproach  and  love  spoke  together  in  pained 
tenderness.     "Oh!   Nina!   I  do  not  believe." 

A  light  draught  from  the  river  ran  over  the  court- 
yard in  a  wave  of  bowing  grass  and,  entering  the 
verandah,  touched  Almayer's  forehead  with  its  cool 


216  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

breath,  in  a  caress  of  infinite  pity.  The  curtain  in 
the  women's  doorway  blew  out  and  instantly  col- 
lapsed with  startling  helplessness.  He  stared  at  the 
fluttering  stuff. 

"Nina!"  cried  Almayer.  "Where  are  you, 
Nina?" 

The  wind  passed  out  of  the  empty  house  in  a 
tremulous  sigh,  and  all  was  still. 

Almayer  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  as  if  to  shut 
out  a  loathsome  sight.  When,  hearing  a  slight 
rustle,  he  uncovered  his  eyes,  the  dark  heap  by 
the  door  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

In  the  middle  of  a  shadowless  square  of  moon- 
light, shining  on  a  smooth  and  level  expanse  of 
young  rice-shoots,  a  little  shelter-hut  perched  on 
high  posts,  the  pile  of  brushwood  near  by  and  the 
glowing  embers  of  a  fire  with  a  man  stretched 
before  it,  seemed  very  small  and  as  if  lost  in  the 
pale  green  iridescence  reflected  from  the  ground. 
On  three  sides  of  the  clearing,  appearing  very  far 
away  in  the  deceptive  light,  the  big  trees  of  the 
forest,  lashed  together  with  manifold  bands  by  a 
mass  of  tangled  creepers,  looked  down  at  the  grow- 
ing young  life  at  their  feet  with  the  sombre  resigna- 
tion of  giants  that  had  lost  faith  in  their  strength. 
And  in  the  midst  of  them  the  merciless  creepers 
clung  to  the  big  trunks  in  cable-like  coils,  leaped 
from  tree  to  tree,  hung  in  thorny  festoons  from  the 
lower  boughs,  and,  sending  slender  tendrils  on  high 
to  seek  out  the  smallest  branches,  carried  death  to 
their  victims  in  an  exulting  riot  of  silent  destruction. 

On  the  fourth  side,  following  the  curve  of  the 
bank  of  that  branch  of  the  Pantai  that  formed  the 

217 


218  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

only  access  to  the  clearing,  ran  a  black  line  of  young 
trees,  bushes,  and  thick  second  growth,  unbroken 
save  for  a  small  gap  chopped  out  in  one  place.  At 
that  gap  began  the  narrow  footpath  leading  from 
the  water's  edge  to  the  grass-built  shelter  used  by 
the  night  watchers  when  the  ripening  crop  had  to 
be  protected  from  the  wild  pigs.  The  pathway 
ended  at  the  foot  of  the  piles  on  which  the  hut  was 
built  in  a  circular  space  covered  Avith  ashes  and  bits 
of  burnt  wood.  In  the  middle  of  that  space,  by  the 
dim  fire,  lay  Dain. 

He  turned  over  on  his  side  with  an  impatient  sigh, 
and,  pillowing  his  head  on  his  bent  arm,  lay  quietly 
with  his  face  to  the  dying  fire.  The  glowing 
embers  shone  redly  in  a  small  circle,  throwing  a 
gleam  into  his  wide-open  eyes,  and  at  every  deep 
breath  the  fine  white  ash  of  bygone  hres  rose  in  a 
light  cloud  before  his  parted  lips,  and  danced  away 
from  the  warm  glow  into  the  moonbeams  pouring 
down  upon  Bulangi's  clearing.  His  body  was  weary 
with  the  exertion  of  the  past  few  days,  his  mind 
more  weary  still  with  the  strain  of  solitary  waiting 
for  his  fate.  Never  before  had  he  felt  so  helpless. 
He  had  heard  the  report  of  the  gun  fired  on  board 
the  launch,  and  he  knew  that  his  life  was  in  untrust- 
worthy hands,  and  that  his  enemies  were  very  near. 
During  the  slow  hours  of  the  afternoon  he  roamed 
about  on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  or,  hiding  in  the 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  219 

bushes,  watched  the  creek  with  unquiet  eyes  for 
some  sign  of  danger.  He  feared  not  death,  yet 
he  desired  ardently  to  live,  for  life  to  him  was  Nina. 
She  had  promised  to  come,  to  follow  him,  to  share 
his  danger  and  his  splendour.  But  with  her  by  his 
side  he  cared  not  for  danger,  and  without  her  there 
could  be  no  splendour  and  no  joy  in  existence. 
Crouching  in  his  shady  hiding  place,  he  closed  his 
eyes,  trying  to  evoke  the  gracious  and  charming 
image  of  the  white  figure  that  for  him  was  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  life.  With  eyes  shut 
tight,  his  teeth  hard  set,  he  tried  in  a  great  effort 
of  passionate  will  to  keep  his  hold  on  that  vision 
of  supreme  delight.  In  vain !  His  heart  grew 
heavy  as  the  figure  of  Nina  faded  away  to  be 
replaced  by  another  vision  this  time  —  a  \asion  of 
armed  men,  of  angry  faces,  of  glittering  arms  —  and 
he  seemed  to  hear  the  hum  of  excited  and  trium- 
phant voices  as  they  discovered  him  in  his  hiding 
place.  Startled  by  the  vividness  of  his  fancy,  he 
would  open  his  eyes,  and,  leaping  out  into  the  sun- 
light, resume  his  aimless  wanderings  around  the 
clearing.  As  he  skirted  in  his  weary  march  the 
edge  of  the  forest  he  glanced  now  and  then  into  its 
dark  shade,  so  enticing  in  its  deceptive  appearance 
of  coolness,  so  repellent  with  its  unrelieved  gloom, 
where  lay,  entombed  and  rotting,  countless  genera- 
tions of  trees,  and  where  their  successors  stood  as 


220  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

if  mourning,  in  dark  green  foliage,  immense  and 
helpless,  awaiting  their  turn.  Only  the  parasites 
seemed  to  live  in  a  sinuous  rush  upwards  into  the 
air  and  sunshine,  feeding  on  the  dead  and  the  liv- 
ing alike,  and  crowning  their  victims  with  pink 
and  blue  flowers  that  gleamed  amongst  the  boughs, 
incongruous  and  cruel,  like  a  strident  and  mocking 
note  in  the  solemn  harmony  of  the  doomed  trees. 

A  man  could  hide  there,  thought  Dain,  as  he 
approached  a  place  where  the  creepers  had  been 
torn  and  hacked  into  an  archway  that  might  have 
been  the  beginning  of  a  path.  As  he  bent  down 
to  look  through  he  heard  angry  grunting,  and  a 
sound  of  wild  pig  crashed  away  in  the  undergrowth. 
An  acrid  smell  of  damp  earth  and  of  decaying 
leaves  took  him  by  the  throat,  and  he  drew  back 
with  a  scared  face,  as  if  he  had  been  touched  by 
the  breath  of  Death  itself.  The  very  air  seemed 
dead  in  there  —  heavy  and  stagnating,  poisoned 
with  the  corruption  of  countless  ages.  He  went 
on,  staggering  on  his  way,  urged  by  the  nervous 
restlessness  that  made  him  feel  tired  yet  caused 
him  to  loathe  the  very  idea  of  immobility  and 
repose.  Was  he  a  wild  man  to  hide  in  the  woods 
and  perhaps  be  killed  there  —  in  the  darkness  — 
where  there  was  no  room  to  breathe  ?  He  would 
wait  for  his  enemies  in  the  sunlight,  where  he  could 
see  the  sky  and  feel  the  breeze.     He  knew  how  a 


ALMAYEk'S    FOLLY.  221 

Malay  chief  should  die.  The  sombre  and  desperate 
fury,  that  peculiar  inheritance  of  his  race,  took 
possession  of  him,  and  he  glared  savagely  across 
the  clearing  towards  the  gap  in  the  bushes  by  the 
riverside.  They  would  come  from  there.  In  imagi- 
nation he  saw  them  now.  He  saw  the  bearded  faces 
and  the  white  jackets  of  the  officers,  the  light  on 
the  levelled  barrels  of  the  rifles.  What  is  the  bra- 
very of  the  greatest  warrior  before  the  firearms  in 
the  hand  of  a  slave  ?  He  would  walk  toward  them 
with  a  smiling  face,  with  his  hands  held  out  in  a 
sign  of  submission  till  he  was  very  near  them.  He 
would  speak  friendly  words  —  come  nearer  yet  — 
yet  nearer  —  so  near  that  they  could  touch  him 
with  their  hands  and  stretch  them  out  to  make 
him  a  captive.  That  would  be  the  time  :  with  a 
shout  and  a  leap  he  would  be  in  the  midst  of  them, 
kriss  in  hand,  killing,  killing,  killing,  and  would  die 
with  the  shouts  of  his  enemies  in  his  ears,  their 
warm  blood  spurting  before  his  eyes. 

Carried  away  by  his  excitement,  he  snatched  the 
kriss  hidden  in  his  sarong,  and,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  rushed  forward,  struck  at  the  empty  air, 
and  fell  on  his  face.  He  lay  as  if  stunned  in  the 
sudden  reaction  from  his  exultation,  thinking  that, 
even  if  he  died  thus  gloriously,  it  would  have  to  be 
before  he  saw  Nina.  Better  so.  If  he  saw  her 
again    he   felt    that   death    would    be    too   terrible. 


222  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

With  horror  he,  the  descendant  of  Rajahs  and  of 
conquerors,  had  to  face  the  doubt  of  his  own 
bravery.  His  desire  of  life  tormented  him  in  a 
paroxysm  of  agonising  remorse.  He  had  not  the 
courage  to  stir  a  limb.  He  had  lost  faith  in  him- 
self, and  there  was  nothing  else  in  him  of  what 
makes  a  man.  The  suffering  remained,  for  it  is 
ordered  that  it  should  abide  in  the  human  body 
even  to  the  last  breath,  and  fear  remained.  Dimly 
he  could  look  into  the  depths  of  his  passionate  love, 
see  its  strength  and  its  weakness,  and  felt  afraid. 

The  sun  went  down  slowly.  The  shadow  of  the 
western  forest  marched  over  the  clearing,  covered 
the  man's  scorched  shoulders  with  its  cool  mantle, 
and  went  on  hurriedly  to  mingle  with  the  shadows 
of  other  forests  on  the  eastern  side.  The  sun  lin- 
gered for  a  while  amongst  the  light  tracery  of  the 
higher  branches,  as  if  in  friendly  reluctance  to  aban- 
don the  body  stretched  in  the  green  paddj^eld. 
Then  Dain,  revived  by  the  cool  of  the  evening- 
breeze,  sat  up  and  stared  round  him.  As  he  did 
so  the  sun  dipped  sharply,  as  if  ashamed  of  being 
detected  in  a  sympathising  attitude,  and  the  clear- 
ing, which  during  the  day  was  all  light,  became 
suddenly  all  darkness,  where  the  fire  gleamed  like 
an  eye.  Dain  walked  slowly  towards  the  creek, 
and,  divesting  himself  of  his  torn  sarong,  his  only 
garment,  entered  the  water  cautiously.     He  had  had 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  223 

nothing  to  eat  that  day,  and  had  not  dared  show 
himself  in  daylight  by  the  waterside  to  drink. 
Now,  as  he  swam  silently,  he  swallowed  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  water  that  lapped  about  his  lips. 
This  did  him  good,  and  he  walked  with  greater 
confidence  in  himself  and  others  as  he  returned 
towards  the  fire.  Had  he  been  betrayed  by  La- 
kamba  all  would  have  been  over  by  this.  He  made 
up  a  big  blaze,  and  while  it  lasted  dried  himself,  and 
then  lay  down  by  the  embers.  He  could  not  sleep, 
but  he  felt  a  great  numbness  in  all  his  limbs.  His 
restlessness  was  gone,  and  he  was  content  to  lie  still, 
measuring  the  time  by  watching  the  stars  that  rose 
in  endless  succession  above  the  forests,  while  the 
slight  puffs  of  wind  under  the  cloudless  sky  seemed 
to  fan  their  twinkle  into  a  greater  brightness. 
Dreamily  he  assured  himself  over  and  over  again 
that  she  would  come,  till  the  certitude  crept  into 
his  heart  and  filled  him  with  a  great  peace.  Yes, 
when  the  next  day  broke,  they  M^ould  be  together  on 
the  great  blue  sea  that  was  like  life  —  away  from  the 
forests  that  were  like  death.  He  murmured  the 
name  of  Nina  into  the  silent  space  with  a  tender 
smile :  this  seemed  to  break  the  spell  of  stillness, 
and  far  away  by  the  creek  a  frog  croaked  loudly  as 
if  iu  answer.  A  chorus  of  loud  roars  and  plaintive 
calls  rose  from  the  mud  along  the  line  of  bushes. 
He   laughed  heartily  ;    doubtless  it  was  their  love- 


224  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

song.  He  felt  affectionate  towards  the  frogs  and 
listened,  pleased  with  the  noisy  life  near  him. 

When  the  moon  peeped  above  the  trees  he  felt 
the  old  impatience  and  the  old  restlessness  steal  over 
him.  Why  was  she  so  late?  True,  it  was  a  long 
way  to  come  with  a  single  paddle.  With  what  skill 
and  what  endurance  could  those  small  hands  handle 
a  heavy  paddle  !  It  was  very  wonderful  —  such  small 
hands,  such  soft  little  palms  that  knew  how  to  touch 
his  cheek  with  a  feel  lighter  than  the  fanning  of 
a  butterfly's  wing.  Wonderful !  He  lost  himself 
lovingly  in  the  contemplation  of  this  tremendous 
mystery,  and  when  he  looked  at  the  moon  again  it 
had  risen  a  hand's  breadth  above  the  trees.  Would 
she  come?  He  forced  himself  to  lie  still,  overcom- 
ing the  impulse  to  rise  and  rush  round  the  clearing 
again.  He  turned  this  way  and  that ;  at  last,  quiver- 
ing with  the  effort,  he  lay  on  his  back,  and  saw  her 
face  among  the  stars  looking  down  on  him. 

The  croaking  of  frogs  suddenly  ceased.  With 
the  watchfulness  of  a  hunted  man  Dain  sat  up, 
listening  anxiously,  and  heard  several  splashes  in 
the  water  as  the  frogs  took  rapid  headers  into  the 
creek.  He  knew  that  they  had  been  alarmed  by 
something,  and  stood  up  suspicious  and  attentive. 
A  slight  grating  noise,  then  the  dry  sound  as  of 
two  pieces  of  wood  struck  against  each  other. 
Somebody   was   about   to   land !      He    took    up    an 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  225 

armful  of  brushwood,  and,  without  taking  his  eyes 
from  the  path,  held  it  over  the  embers  of  his  fire. 
He  waited,  undecided,  and  saw  something  gleam 
amongst  the  bushes;  then  a  white  figure  came  out 
of  the  shadows  and  seemed  to  float  towards  him 
in  the  pale  light.  His  heart  gave  a  great  leap  and 
stood  still,  then  went  on  shaking  liis  frame  in 
furious  beats.  He  dropped  the  brushwood  upon 
the  glowing  coals,  and  had  an  impression  of  shout- 
ing her  name  —  of  rushing  to  meet  her;  yet  he 
emitted  no  sound,  he  stirred  not  an  inch,  but  he 
stood  silent  and  motionless  like  chiselled  bronze 
under  the  moonlight  that  streamed  over  his  naked 
shoulders.  As  he  stood  still,  fighting  with  his 
breath,  as  if  bereft  of  his  senses  by  the  intensity 
of  his  delight,  she  walked  up  to  him  with  quick, 
resolute  steps,  and,  with  the  appearance  of  one 
about  to  leap  from  a  dangerous  height,  thi-ew  both 
her  arms  round  his  neck  with  a  sudden  gesture. 
A  small  blue  gleam  crept  amongst  the  dry  branches, 
and  the  crackling  of  reviving  fire  was  the  only 
sound  as  they  faced  each  other  in  the  speechless 
en  Aon  of  that  meeting  ;  then  the  dry  fuel  caught 
at  once,  and  a  bright  hot  flame  shot  upwards  in  a 
blaze  as  high  as  their  heads,  and  in  its  light  they 
saw  each  other's  eyes. 

Neither  of   them  spoke.      He  was   regaining   his 
senses  in   a  slight  tremor. that  ran   upwards  along 
9 


226  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

his  rigid  body  and  hung  about  his  trembling  lips. 
She  drew  back  her  head  and  fastened  her  eyes  on 
his  in  one  of  those  long  looks  that  are  a  woman's 
most  terrible  weapon ;  a  look  that  is  more  stirring 
than  the  closest  touch,  and  more  dangerous  than 
the  thrust  of  a  dagger,  because  it  also  whips  the 
soul  out  of  the  body,  but  leaves  the  body  alive  and 
helpless,  to  be  swayed  here  and  there  by  the  capri- 
cious tempests  of  passion  and  desire ;  a  look  that 
enwraps  the  whole  body,  and  that  penetrates  into 
the  innermost  recesses  of  the  being,  bringing  ter- 
rible defeat  in  the  delirious  uplifting  of  accomplished 
conquest.  It  has  the  same  meaning  for  the  man 
of  the  forests  and  the  sea  as  for  the  man  threading 
the  paths  of  the  more  dangerous  wilderness  of 
houses  and  streets.  Men  that  had  felt  in  their 
breasts  the  awful  exultation  such  a  look  awakens 
become  mere  things  of  to-day  —  which  is  paradise  ; 
forget  yesterday  —  which  was  suffering ;  care  not 
for  to-morrow  —  which  may  be  perdition.  They 
wish  to  live  under  that  look  for  ever.  It  is  the 
look  of  woman's  surrender. 

He  understood,  and,  as  if  suddenly  released  from 
his  invisible  bonds,  fell  at  her  feet  with  a  shout  of 
joy,  and,  embracing  her  knees,  hid  his  head  in  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  murmuring  disjointed  words  of 
gratitude  and  love.  Never  before  had  he  felt  so 
proud  as  now,  when  at  the  feet  of  that  woman  that 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  227 

half  belonged  to  his  enemies.  Her  fingers  played 
with  his  hair  in  an  absent-minded  caress  as  she  stood 
absorbed  in  thought.  The  thing  was  done.  Her 
mother  was  right.  The  man  was  her  slave.  As 
she  glanced  down  at  his  kneeling  form  she  felt  a 
great  pitying  tenderness  for  that  man  she  was  used 
to  call  —  even  in  her  thoughts  —  the  master  of  life. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  sadly  at  the  southern 
heavens  under  which  lay  the  path  of  their  lives,  her 
own,  and  that  man's  at  her  feet.  Did  he  not  say 
himself  that  she  was  the  light  of  his  life  ?  She 
would  be  his  light  and  his  wisdom  ;  she  would  be 
his  greatness  and  his  strength  ;  yet  hidden  from  the 
eyes  of  all  men  she  would  be,  above  all,  his  only 
and  lasting  weakness.  A  very  woman!  In  the 
sublime  vanity  of  her  kind  she  was  thinking  already 
of  moulding  a  god  from  the  clay  at  her  feet.  A 
god  for  others  to  worship.  She  was  content  to  see 
him  as  he  was  now,  and  to  feel  him  quiver  at  the 
slightest  touch  of  her  light  fingers.  And  while 
her  eyes  looked  sadly  at  the  southern  stars  a  faint 
smile  seemed  to  be  playing  about  her  firm  lips, 
"^"ho  can  tell  in  the  fitful  light  of  a  camp  fire? 
It  might  have  been  a  smile  of  triumph,  or  of 
conscious  power,  or  of  tender  pity,  or,  perhaps,  of 
love. 

She  spoke  tenderly  to  him,  and   he   rose   to  his 
feet,  putting  his  arm  round  her  in  quiet  conscious- 


228  ALMAYER'S    KOLLY. 

ness  of  his  ownerstiip ;  she  laid  her  head  on  his 
shoulder  with  a  sense  of  defiance  to  all  the  world 
in  the  encircling  protection  of  that  arm.  He  was 
hers  with  all  his  qualities  and  all  his  faults.  His 
strength  and  his  courage,  his  recklessness  and  his 
daring,  his  simple  wisdom  and  his  savage  cunning 
—  all  were  hers.  As  they  passed  together  out  of 
the  red  light  of  the  fire  into  the  silver  shower  of 
rays  that  fell  upon  the  clearing  he  bent  his  head 
over  her  face,  and  she  saw  in  his  eyes  the  dreamy 
intoxication  of  boundless  felicity  from  the  close 
touch  of  her  slight  figure  clasped  to  his  side.  With 
a  rhythmical  swing  of  their  bodies  they  walked 
through  the  light  towards  the  outlying  shadows  of 
the  forests  that  seemed  to  guard  their  happiness 
in  solemn  immobility.  Their  forms  melted  in  the 
play  of  light  and  shadow  at  the  foot  of  the  big 
trees,  but  the  murmur  of  tender  words  lingered 
over  the  empty  clearing,  grew  faint,  and  died  out. 
A  sigh  full  of  unspeakable  sorrow  passed  over  the 
land  in  the  last  effort  of  the  dying  breeze,  and  in 
the  great  silence  which  succeeded,  the  earth  and 
the  heavens  were  suddenly  hushed  up  in  the 
mournful  contemplation  of  human  love  and  human 
blindness. 

They  walked  slowly  back  to  the  fire.  He  made 
for  her  a  seat  out  of  the  dry  branches,  and,  throwing 
himself  down  at  her  feet,  lay  his  head  in  her  lap  and 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  229 

gave  himself  up  to  the  dreamy  delight  of  the  passing 
hour.  Their  voices  rose  and  fell  tender  or  animated 
as  they  spoke  of  their  love  and  of  their  future. 
She,  with  a  few  skilful  words  spoken  from  time  to 
time,  guided  his  thoughts,  and  he  let  his  happiness 
flow  in  a  stream  of  talk  passionate  and  tender, 
grave  or  menacing,  according  to  the  mood  which 
she  evoked.  He  spoke  to  her  of  his  own  island, 
where  the  gloomy  forests  and  the  muddy  rivers  were 
unknown.  He  spoke  of  its  terraced  fields,  of  the 
murmuring  clear  rills  of  sparkling  water  that  flowed 
down  the  sides  of  great  mountains,  bringing  life  to 
the  land  and  joy  to  its  tillers.  And  he  spoke  also 
of  the  mountain  peak  that  rising  lonely  above  the 
belt  of  trees  knew  the  secrets  of  the  passing  clouds, 
and  was  the  dwelling-place  of  the  mysterious  spirit 
of  his  race,  of  the  guardian  genius  of  his  house.  He 
spoke  of  vast  horizons  swept  by  fierce  winds  that 
whistled  high  above  the  summits  of  burning  moun- 
tains. He  spoke  of  his  forefathers  that  conquered 
ages  ago  the  island  of  which  he  was  to  be  the  future 
ruler.  And  then  as,  interested,  she  brought  her 
face  nearer  to  his,  he,  touching  lightly  the  thick 
tresses  of  her  long  hair,  felt  a  sudden  impulse  to 
speak  to  her  of  the  sea  he  loved  so  well ;  and  he 
told  her  of  its  never-ceasing  voice,  to  which  he  had 
listened  as  a  child,  wondering  at  its  hidden  mean- 
ing that  no  living  man  has  penetrated  yet ;    of  its 


230  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

enchanting  glitter ;  of  its  senseless  and  capricious 
fury ;  how  its  surface  was  for  ever  changing,  and 
yet  always  enticing,  while  its  depths  were  for  ever 
the  same,  cold  and  cruel,  and  full  of  the  wisdom  of 
destroyed  life.  He  told  her  how  it  held  men  slaves 
of  its  charm  for  a  lifetime,  and  then,  regardless  of 
their  devotion,  swallowed  them  up,  angry  at  their 
fear  of  its  mystery,  which  it  would  never  disclose, 
not  even  to  those  that  loved  it  most.  While  he 
talked,  Nina's  head  had  been  gradually  sinking 
lower,  and  her  face  almost  touched  his  now.  Her 
hair  was  over  his  eyes,  her  breath  was  on  his  fore- 
head, her  arms  were  about  his  body.  No  two  beings 
could  be  closer  to  each  other,  yet  she  guessed  rather 
than  understood  the  meaning  of  his  last  words  that 
came  out  after  a  slight  hesitation  in  a  faint  murmur, 
dying  out  imperceptibly  into  a  profound  and  signifi- 
cant silence :  "  The  sea.  O  Nina,  is  like  a  woman's 
heart." 

She  closed  his  lips  with  a  sudden  kiss,  and 
answered  in  a  steady  voice  — 

"  But  to  the  men  that  have  no  fear,  O  master  of 
my  life,  the  sea  is  ever  true." 

Over  their  heads  a  film  of  dark,  thread-like 
clouds,  looking  like  immense  cobwebs  drifting  under 
the  stars,  darkened  the  sky  with  the  presage  of  the 
coming  thunder-storm.  From  the  invisible  hills  the 
first  distant  rumble  of  thunder  came  in  a  prolonged 


AOIAYER'S    FOLLY.  231 

roll  which,  after  tossing  about  from  hill  to  hill,  lost 
itself  in  the  forests  of  the  Pantai.  Dain  and  Nina 
stood  up,  and  the  former  looked  at  the  sky  uneasily. 

"  It  is  time  for  Babalatchi  to  be  here,"  he  said. 
'^  The  night  is  more  than  half  gone.  Our  road  is 
long,  and  a  bullet  travels  quicker  than  the  })est 
canoe." 

"  He  will  be  here  before  the  moon  is  hidden  behind 
die  clouds,"  said  Nina.  "  I  heard  a  splash  in  the 
water,"  she  added.     "  Did  you  hear  it  too  ?  " 

"Alligator,"  answered  Dain  shortly,  with  a  care- 
less glance  towards  the  creek.  "  The  darker  the 
night,"  he  continued,  "the  shorter  will  be  our  road, 
for  then  we  could  keep  in  the  current  of  the  main 
stream,  but  if  it  is  light  —  even  no  more  than  now  — 
we  must  follow  the  small  channels  of  sleeping  water, 
with  nothing  to  help  our  paddles." 

"Dain,"  interposed  Nina,  earnestly,  "it  was  no 
alligator.  I  heard  the  bushes  rustling  near  the 
landing-place." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dain,  after  listening  awhile.  "  It  can- 
not be  Babalatchi,  who  would  come  in  a  big  war 
canoe,  and  openly.  Those  that  are  coming,  whoever 
they  are,  do  not  wish  to  make  much  noise.  But  you 
have  heard,  and  now  I  can  see,"  he  went  on  quickly. 
"  It  is  but  one  man.  Stand  behind  me,  Nina.  If  he 
is  a  friend  he  is  welcome  ;  if  he  is  an  enemy  you  shall 
see  him  die." 


232  ALMAYEK'S    FOLLY. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  his  kriss,  and  awaited  the 
approach  of  his  unexpected  visitor.  The  fire  was 
burning  very  low,  and  small  clouds  —  precursors  of 
the  storm  —  crossed  the  face  of  the  moon  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, and  their  flying  shadows  darkened  the  clear- 
ing. He  could  not  make  out  who  the  man  might  be, 
but  he  felt  uneasy  at  the  steady  advance  of  the  tall 
figure  walking  on  the  path  with  a  heavy  tread,  and 
hailed  it  with  a  command  to  stop.  The  man  stopped 
at  some  little  distance,  and  Dain  expected  him  to 
speak,  but  all  he  could  hear  was  his  deep  breathing. 
Through  a  break  in  the  flying  clouds  a  sudden 
and  fleeting  brightness  descended  upon  the  clearing. 
Before  the  darkness  closed  in  again  Dain  saw  a 
hand  holding  some  glittering  object  extended 
towards  him,  heard  Nina's  cry  of  "  Father  ! "  and 
in  an  instant  the  girl  was  between  him  and  Alma- 
yer's  revolver.  Nina's  loud  cry  woke  up  the  echoes 
of  the  sleeping  woods,  and  the  three  stood  still  as  if 
waiting  for  the  return  of  silence  before  they  would 
give  expression  to  their  various  feelings.  At  the 
appearance  of  Nina,  Almayer's  arm  fell  by  his  side, 
and  he  made  a  step  forward.  Dain  pushed  the  girl 
gently  aside. 

''  Am  I  a  wild  beast  that  you  should  try  to  kill  me 
suddenly  and  in  the  dark,  Tuan  Almayer?"  said 
Dain,  breaking  the  strained  silence.  "  Throw  some 
brushwood   on   the  fire,"  he   went   on,  speaking  to 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  233 

Nina,  "  while  I  watch  my  white  friend,  lest  harm 
should  come  to  you  or  to  rae,  O  delight  of  my 
heart !  " 

Almayer  ground  his  teeth  and  raised  his  arm 
again.  With  a  quick  bound  Dain  was  at  his  side  : 
there  was  a  short  scuffle,  during  which  one  barrel 
of  the  revolver  went  off  harmlessly,  then  the  weapon, 
wrenched  out  of  Almayer's  hand,  whirled  through 
the  air  and  fell  in  the  bushes.  The  two  men  stood 
close  together,  breathing  hard.  The  replenished  fire 
threw  out  an  unsteady  circle  of  light  and  shone  on 
the  terrified  face  of  Nina,  who  looked  at  them  with 
outstretched  hands. 

''  Dain  I "  she  cried  out  warningly,  "  Dain ! '' 

He  waved  his  hand  towards  her  in  a  reassuring 
gesture,  and,  turning  to  Almayer,  said  with  great 
courtesy  — 

''  Now  we  may  talk,  Tuan.  It  is  easy  to  send 
out  death,  but  can  your  wisdom  recall  the  life  ? 
She  might  have  been  harmed,"  he  continued,  in- 
dicating Nina.  "  Your  hand  shook  much  ;  for 
myself  I  was  much  afraid." 

"'  Nina !  "  exclaimed  Almayer,  "  come  to  me  at  once. 
What  is  this  sudden  madness?  What  bewitched 
you  ?  Come  to  your  father,  and  together  we  shall 
try  to  forget  this  horrible  nightmare !  " 

He  opened  his  arms  with  the  certitude  of  clasping 
her  to  his  breast  in   another  second.     She  did  not 


2.34  A LM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

move.  As  it  dawned  upon  him  that  she  did  not 
mean  to  obey  he  felt  a  deadly  cold  creep  into  his 
heart,  and,  pressing  the  palms  of  his  hands  to  his 
temples,  he  looked  down  on  the  ground  in  mute 
despair.  Dain  took  Nina  by  the  arm  and  led  her 
towards  her  father. 

"  Speak  to  him  in  the  language  of  his  people," 
he  said.  "He  is  grieving — as  who  would  not  grieve 
at  losing  thee,  my  pearl  I  Speak  to  him  the  last 
words  he  shall  hear  spoken  by  that  voice,  which 
must  be  very  sweet  to  him,  but  is  all  my  life  to 
me." 

He  released  her,  and,  stepping  back  a  few  paces 
out  of  the  circle  of  light,  stood  in  the  darkness 
looking  at  them  with  calm  interest.  The  reflec- 
tion of  a  distant  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  clouds 
over  their  heads,  and  was  followed  after  a  short 
interval  by  the  faint  rumble  of  thunder,  which 
mingled  with  Almayer's  voice  as  he  began  to 
speak. 

''  Do  you  know  what  you  are  doing  ?  Do  you 
know  what  is  waiting  for  you  if  you  follow  that 
man?  Have  you  no  pity  for  yourself?  Do  you 
know  that  you  shall  be  at  first  his  pla3rthing  and 
then  a  scorned  slave,  a  drudge,  and  a  servant  of 
some  new  fancy  of  that  man  ? " 

She  raised  her  hand  to  stop  him,  and  turning  her 
head  slightly,  asked  — 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  235 

"  You  hear  this,  Dain  I     Is  it  true  ?  " 

"  By  all  the  gods  !  "  came  the  impassioned  answer 
from  the  darkness  —  "  by  heaven  and  earth,  by  my 
head  and  thine  I  swear  :  this  is  a  white  man's  lie. 
I  have  delivered  my  soul  into  your  hands  for  ever ; 
I  breathe  with  your  breath,  I  see  with  your  eyes,  I 
think  with  your  mind,  and  I  take  you  into  my  heart 
for  ever." 

"  You  thief ! "  shouted  the  exasperated  Alma- 
yer. 

A  deep  silence  succeeded  this  outburst,  then  the 
voice  of  Dain  was  heard  again. 

"Nay,  Tuan,"  he  said  in  a  gentle  tone,  "that  is 
not  true  also.  The  girl  came  of  her  own  will.  I 
have  done  no  more  but  to  show  her  my  love  like  a 
man ;  she  heard  the  cry  of  my  heart,  and  she  came, 
and  the  dowry  I  have  given  to  the  woman  you  call 
your  wife." 

Almayer  groaned  in  his  extremity  of  rage  and 
shame.  Nina  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder, 
and  the  contact,  light  as  the  touch  of  a  falling  leaf, 
seemed  to  calm  him.  He  spoke  quickly,  and  in 
English  this  time. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  — "  tell  me,  what  have  they 
done  to  you,  your  mother  and  that  man?  What 
made  you  give  yourself  up  to  that  savage?  For 
he  is  a  savage.  Between  him  and  you  there  is  a 
barrier  that  nothing  can  remove.     I  can  see  in  your 


236  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

eyes  the  look  of  those  who  commit  suicide  when 
they  are  mad.  You  are  mad.  Don't  smile :  it 
breaks  my  heart.  If  I  were  to  see  you  drowning 
before  my  eyes,  and  I  without  the  power  to  help 
you,  I  could  not  suffer  a  greater  torment.  Have 
you  forgotten  the  teaching  of  so  many  years  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  interrupted,  "  I  remember  it  well.  I 
remember  how  it  ended  also.  Scorn  for  scorn,  con- 
tempt for  contempt,  hate  for  hate.  T  am  not  of 
your  race.  Between  your  people  and  me  there  is 
also  a  barrier  that  nothing  can  remove.  You  ask 
why  I  want  to  go,  and  T  ask  you  why  I  should 
stay?" 

He  staggered  as  if  struck  in  the  face,  but  with  a 
quick,  unhesitating  grasp  she  caught  him  by  the  arm 
and  steadied  him. 

"  Why  you  should  stay  !  "  he  repeated  slowly,  in 
a  dazed  manner,  and  stopped  short,  astounded  at  the 
completeness  of  his  misfortune. 

"You  told  me  yesterday,"  she  went  on  again, 
"that  I  could  not  understand  or  see  your  love  for 
me  :  it  is  so.  How  can  I  ?  No  two  human  beings 
understand  each  other.  They  can  understand  but 
their  own  voices.  You  wanted  me  to  dream  your 
dreams,  to  see  your  own  visions  —  the  visions  of  life 
amongst  the  white  faces  of  those  who  cast  me  out 
from  their  midst  in  angry  contempt.  But  while  you 
spoke  I  listened  to  the  voice  of  my  own  self;  then 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  237 

this  man  came,  and  all  was  still ;  there  was  only 
the  murmur  of  his  love.  You  call  him  a  savage  ! 
What  do  you  call  my  mother,  your  wife  ?  " 

"Nina!"  cried  Almayer,  "take  your  eyes  off  my 
face." 

She  looked  down  directly,  but  continued  speak- 
ing only  a  little  above  a  whisper. 

"  In  time,"  she  went  on,  "  both  our  voices,  that 
man's  and  mine,  spoke  together  in  a  sweetness  that 
was  intelligible  to  our  ears  only.  You  were  speak- 
ing of  gold  then,  but  our  ears  were  filled  with 
the  song  of  our  love,  and  we  did  not  hear  you. 
Then  I  found  that  we  could  see  through  eacli 
other's  eyes :  that  he  saw  things  that  nobody  but 
myself  and  he  could  see.  We  entered  a  land 
where  no  one  could  follow  us,  and  least  of  all  you. 
Then  I  began  to  live." 

She  paused.  Almayer  sighed  deeply.  With  her 
eyes  still  fixed  on  the  ground  she  began  speaking 
again. 

"And  I  mean  to  live.  T  mean  to  follow  him. 
I  have  been  rejected  with  scorn  by  the  white  peo- 
ple, and  now  1  am  a  Malay  I  He  took  me  in  his 
arms,  he  laid  his  life  at  my  feet.  He  is  brave;  he 
will  be  powerful,  and  I  hold  his  bravery  and  his 
strength  in  my  hand,  and  I  shall  make  him  great. 
His  name  shall  be  remembered  long  after  both  our 
bodies  are   laid  in   the   dust.     I    love   you    no   less 


238  ALM AVER'S    FOLLY. 

than  I  did  before,  but  1  shall  never  leave  him,  for 
without  him  I  cannot  live." 

"If  he  understood  what  you  have  said,"  an- 
swered Almayer,  scornfully,  "he  must  be  highly 
flattered.  You  want  him  as  a  tool  for  some  incom- 
prehensible ambition  of  yours.  Enough,  Nina.  If 
you  do  not  go  down  at  once  to  the  creek,  where 
Ali  is  waiting  with  my  canoe,  I  shall  tell  him  to 
return  to  the  settlement  and  bring  the  Dutch  officers 
here.  You  cannot  escape  from  this  clearing,  for  I 
have  cast  adrift  your  canoe.  If  the  Dutch  catch 
this  hero  of  yours  they  will  hang  him  as  sure  as  I 
stand  here.     Now  go." 

He  made  a  step  towards  his  daughter  and  laid 
hold  of  her  by  the  shoulder,  his  other  hand  point- 
ing down  the  path  to  the  landing-place. 

"  Beware  !  "  exclaimed  Dain  ;  "  this  woman  be- 
longs to  me  !  " 

Nina  wrenched  herself  free  and  looked  straight 
at  Almayer's  angry  face. 

"No,  I  will  not  go,"  she  said  with  desperate 
energy.     "  If  he  dies  I  shall  die  too !  " 

"  You  die  !  "  said  Almayer,  contemptuously. 
"  Oh,  no  !  You  shall  live  a  life  of  lies  and  decep- 
tion till  some  other  vagabond  comes  along  to  sing; 
how  did  you  say  that  ?  The  song  of  love  to  you  J 
Make  up  your  mind  quickly." 

He  waited  for  a  while,  and  then  added  meaningly  — 


ALM AVER'S    FOLLY.  239 

"Shall  I  call  out  to  All?" 

"  Call  out,"  she  answered  in  Malay,  '•'•  you  that 
cannot  be  true  to  your  own  countrymen.  Only  a 
few  days  ago  you  were  selling  the  powder  for  their 
destruction;  now  you  want  to  give  up  to  them 
the  man  that  yesterday  you  called  your  friend. 
Oh,  Dain,"  she  said,  turning  towards  the  motion- 
less but  attentive  figure  in  the  darkness,  "  instead 
of  bringing  you  life  I  bring  you  death,  for  he  will 
betray  unless  I  leave  you  for  ever!  " 

Dain  came  into  the  circle  of  light,  and,  throw- 
ing his  arm  around  Nina's  neck,  whispered  in  her 
ear  — 

"  I  can  kill  him  where  he  stands,  before  a  sound 
can  pass  his  lips.  For  you  it  is  to  say  yes  or  no. 
Babalatchi  cannot  be  far  now." 

He  straightened  himself  up,  taking  his  arm  off 
her  shoulder,  and  confronted  Almayer,  who  looked 
at  them  both  with  an  expression  of  concentrated 
fury. 

"No!  "  she  cried,  clinging  to  Dain  in  wild  alarm. 
"No,  kill  me!  Then  perhaps  he  will  let  you  go. 
You  do  not  know  the  mind  of  a  wliite  man.  He 
would  rather  see  me  dead  than  standing  where  I 
am.  Forgive  me,  your  slave,  but  you  must  not." 
She  fell  at  his  feet  sobbing  violently  and  repeating, 
"Kill  me!     Kill  me!" 

"I  want  3^ou  alive,"  said  Almayer,  speaking  also 


240  ALM AVER'S    FOLLY. 

in  Malay,  with  sombre  calmness.  "  You  go,  or  he 
hangs.     Will  you  obey  ?  " 

Dain  shook  Nina  off,  and,  making  a  sudden  lunge, 
struck  Almayer  full  in  the  chest  with  the  handle 
of  his  kriss,  keeping  the  point  towards  himself. 

"  Hai,  look !  It  was  easy  for  me  to  turn  the 
point  the  other  way,"  he  said  in  his  even  voice. 
''Go,  Tuan  Putih,"  he  added  with  dignity.  "I 
give  you  your  life,  my  life,  and  her  life.  I  am  the 
slave  of  this  woman's  desire,  and  she  wills  it  so." 

There  was  not  a  glimmer  of  light  in  the  sky 
now,  and  the  tops  of  the  trees  were  as  invisible  as 
their  trunks,  being  lost  in  the  mass  of  clouds  that 
hung  low  over  the  woods,  the  clearing,  and  the 
river.  Every  outline  had  disappeared  in  the  intense 
blackness  that  seemed  to  have  destroyed  everything 
but  space.  Only  the  fire  glimmered  like  a  star 
forgotten  in  this  annihilation  of  all  visible  things, 
and  nothing  was  heard  after  Dain  ceased  speaking 
but  the  sobs  of  Nina,  whom  he  held  in  his  arms, 
kneeling  beside  the  fire.  Almayer  stood  looking 
down  at  them  in  gloomy  thoughtfulness.  As  he 
was  opening  his  lips  to  speak  they  were  startled 
by  a  cry  of  warning  by  the  riverside,  followed  by 
the  splash  of  many  paddles  and  the  sound  of 
voices. 

"  Babalatchi !  "  shouted  Dain,  lifting  up  Nina  as 
he  got  upon  his  feet  quickly. 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  241 

"  Ada  !  Ada  !  "  came  the  answer  from  the  pant- 
ing statesman,  who  ran  up  the  path  and  stood 
amongst  them.  "Run  to  my  canoe,"  he  said  to 
Dain  excitedly,  without  taking  any  notice  of  Al- 
mayer.  "  Run !  we  must  go.  That  woman  has 
told  them  all !  " 

"  What  woman  ? "  asked  Dain,  looking  at  Nina. 
Just  then  there  was  only  one  woman  in  the  whole 
world  for  him. 

"  The  she-dog  with  white  teeth ;  the  seven  times 
accursed  slave  of  Bulangi.  She  yelled  at  Abdulla's 
gate  till  she  woke  up  all  Sambir.  Now  the  white 
officers  are  coming,  guided  by  her  and  Reshid.  If 
you  want  to  live,  do  not  look  at  me,  but  go  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ?  "  asked  Almayer. 

"  Oh,  Tuan  !  what  matters  how  I  know  !  I  have 
only  one  eye,  but  I  saw  lights  in  Abdulla's  house  and 
in  his  campong  as  we  were  paddling  past.  I  have 
ears,  and  while  we  lay  under  the  bank  I  have  heard 
the  messengers  sent  out  to  the  white  men's  house." 

*•'  Will  you  depart  without  that  woman  who  is  my 
daughter  ? "  said  Almayer,  addressing  Dain,  while 
Babalatchi  stamped  with  impatience,  muttering, 
"■  Run  !     Run  at  once  !  " 

"  No,"  answered  Dain,  steadily,  "  I  will  not  go  ;  to 
no  man  will  I  abandon  this  woman." 

"  Then  kill  me  and  escape  yourself,"  sobbed  out 
Nina. 


242  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

He  clasped  her  close,  looking  at  her  tenderly,  and 
whispered,  "We  will  never  part,  O  Nina!  " 

"  I  shall  not  stay  here  any  longer,"  broke  in 
Babalatchi,  angrly.  "  This  is  great  foolishness.  No 
woman  is  worth  a  man's  life.  I  am  an  old  man,  and 
I  know." 

He  picked  up  his  staff,  and,  turning  to  go,  looked 
at  Dain  as  if  offering  him  his  last  chance  of  escape. 
But  Dain's  face  was  hidden  amongst  Nina's  black 
tresses,  and  he  did  not  see  this  last  appealing 
glance. 

Babalatchi  vanished  in  the  darkness.  Shortly  after 
his  disappearance  they  heard  the  war  canoe  leave  the 
landing-place  in  the  swish  of  the  numerous  paddles 
dipped  in  the  water  together.  Almost  at  the  same 
time  Ali  came  up  from  the  riverside,  two  paddles  on 
his  shoulder. 

"  Our  canoe  is  hidden  up  the  creek,  Tuan 
Almayer,"  he  said,  "  in  the  dense  bush  where  the 
forest  comes  down  to  the  water.  I  took  it  there 
because  I  heard  from  Babalatchi's  paddlers  that  the 
white  men  are  coming  here." 

"  Wait  for  me  there,"  said  Almayer,  "  but  keep 
the  canoe  hidden." 

He  remained  silent,  listening  to  All's  footsteps, 
then  turned  to  Nina. 

"  Nina,"  he  said  sadly,  "  will  you  have  no  pity 
for  me?" 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  243 

There  was  no  answer.  She  did  not  even  turn  her 
head,  which  was  pressed  close  to  Dain's  breast. 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  leave  them  and 
stopped.  By  the  dim  glow  of  the  burning-out  fire 
he  saw  their  two  motionless  figures.  The  woman's 
back  turned  to  him  with  the  long  black  hair  stream- 
ing down  over  the  white  dress,  and  Dain's  calm 
face  looking  at  him  above  her  head. 

"I  cannot,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  After  a 
long  pause  he  spoke  again  a  little  lower,  but  in  an 
unsteady  voice,  "  It  would  be  too  great  a  disgrace. 
I  am  a  white  man."  He  broke  down  suddenly 
there,  and  went  on  tearfully,  '■^  I  am  a  white  man, 
and  of  good  family.  Very  good  family,"  he  re- 
peated, weeping  bitterly.  "  It  would  be  a  disgrace 
...  all  over  the  islands,  .  .  .  the  only  white  man 
on  the  east  coast.  No,  it  cannot  be  .  .  .  white 
men  finding  my  daughter  with  this  Malay.  My 
daughter!"  he  cried  aloud,  with  a  ring  of  despair 
in  his  voice. 

He  recovered  his  composure  after  a  while  and 
said  distinctly  — 

"  I  will  never  forgive  you,  Nina  —  never !  If 
you  were  to  come  back  to  me  now,  tlie  memory  of 
this  night  would  poison  all  my  life.  I  shall  try 
to  forget.  I  have  no  daughter.  There  used  to  be 
a  half-caste  woman  in  my  house,  but  she  is  going 
even  now.     You,  Dain,  or  whatever  your  name  may 


244  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

be,  I  shall  take  you  and  that  woman  to  the  island  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  myself.     Come  with  me." 

He  led  the  way,  following  the  bank  as  far  as  the 
forest.  Ali  answered  to  his  call,  and,  pushing  their 
way  through  the  dense  bush,  they  stepped  into 
the  canoe  hidden  under  the  overhanging  branches. 
Dain  laid  Nina  in  the  bottom,  and  sat  holding  her 
head  on  his  knees.  Almayer  and  Ali  each  took 
up  a  paddle.  As  they  were  going  to  push  out  Ali 
hissed  warningly.     All  listened. 

In  the  great  stillness  before  the  bursting  out  of 
the  thunder-storm  they  could  hear  the  sound  of  oars 
working  regularly  in  their  row-locks.  The  sound 
approached  steadily,  and  Dain,  looking  through  the 
branches,  could  see  the  faint  shape  of  a  big  white 
boat.     A  woman's  voice  said  in  a  cautious  tone  — 

"There  is  the  place  where  you  may  land,  white 
men ;  a  little  higher  —  there  !  " 

The  boat  was  passing  them  so  close  in  the  nar- 
row creek  that  the  blades  of  the  long  oars  nearly 
touched  the  canoe. 

"  Way  enough !  Stand  by  to  jump  on  shore ! 
He  is  alone  and  unarmed,"  was  the  quiet  order  in 
a  man's  voice,  and  in  Dutch. 

Somebody  else  whispered :  "  I  think  I  can  see  a 
glimmer  of  a  fire  through  the  bush."  And  then 
the  boat  floated  past  them,  disappearing  instantly 
in  the  darkness. 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  246 

"  Now,"  whispered  Ali,  eagerly,  "  let  us  push  out 
and  paddle  away." 

The  little  canoe  swung  into  the  stream,  and  as 
it  sprung  forward  in  response  to  the  vigorous  dig 
of  the  paddles  they  could  hear  an  angry  shout. 

"  He  is  not  by  the  fire.  Spread  out,  men,  and 
search  for  him  !  " 

Blue  lights  blazed  out  in  different  [)arts  of  the 
clearing,  and  the  shrill  voice  of  a  woman  cried  in 
accents  of  rage  and  pain  — 

"  Too  late !  O  senseless  white  men  I  He  has 
escaped! " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  Dain,  indicating  with  the 
blade  of  his  paddle  a  small  islet  about  a  mile  ahead 
of  the  canoe  — "  this  is  the  place  where  Babalatchi 
promised  that  a  boat  from  the  prau  would  come  for 
me  when  the  sun  is  overhead.  We  shall  wait  for 
that  boat  there." 

Almayer,  steering  in  the  stern,  nodded  without 
speaking,  and  by  a  slight  sweep  of  his  paddle  laid 
the  head  of  the  canoe  in  the  required  direction. 

They  were  just  leaving  the  southern  outlet  of  the 
Pantai,  which  lay  behind  them  in  a  straight  and  long 
vista  of  water  shining  between  two  walls  of  thick 
verdure  that  ran  downwards  and  towards  each  other, 
till  at  last  they  joined  and  sank  together  in  the  far- 
away distance.  The  sun,  rising  above  the  calm 
waters  of  the  Straits,  marked  its  own  path  by  a 
streak  of  light  that  glided  upon  the  sea  and  darted 
up  the  wide  reach  of  the  river,  a  hurried  messenger 
of  light  and  life  to  the  gloomy  forests  of  the  coast; 
and  in  this  radiance  of  sun's  pathway  floated  the 
black  canoe  heading  for  the  islet  which  lay  bathed 

246 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  247 

in  sunshine,  the  yellow  sands  of  its  encircling  beach 
shining  like  an  inlaid  golden  disc  on  the  polished 
steel  of  the  unwrinkled  sea.  To  the  north  and 
south  of  it  rose  other  islets,  joyous  in  their  brilliant 
colouring  of  green  and  yellow,  and  on  the  main 
coast  the  sombre  line  of  mangrove  bushes  ended  to 
the  southward  in  the  reddish  cliffs  of  Tanjong 
Mirrah,  advancing  into  the  sea,  steep  and  shadow- 
less under  the  clear  light  of  the  early  morning. 

The  bottom  of  the  canoe  grated  upon  the  sand  as 
the  little  craft  ran  up  on  the  beach.  Ali  leaped  on 
shore  and  held  on  while  Dain  stepped  out  carrying 
in  his  arms  Nina,  exhausted  by  the  events  and  the 
long  travelling  during  the  night.  Almayer  was  the 
last  to  leave  the  boat,  and  together  with  Ali  ran  it 
higher  up  on  the  beach.  Then  Ali,  tired  out  by  the 
long  paddling,  laid  down  in  the  shade  of  the  canoe, 
and  incontinently  fell  asleep.  Almayer  sat  sideways 
on  the  gunwale,  and  with  his  arms  crossed  on  his 
l)reast,  looked  to  the  southward  upon  the  sea. 

After  carefully  laying  down  Nina  in  the  shade  of 
the  bushes  growing  in  the  middle  of  the  islet,  Dain 
threw  himself  down  beside  her  and  watched  in  silent 
concern  the  tears  that  ran  down  from  under  her 
closed  eyelids,  and  lost  themselves  in  that  fine  sand 
upon  which  they  both  were  lying  face  to  face. 
These  tears  and  this  sorrow  were  for  him  a  pro- 
found  and   disquieting   mystery.     Now,    when    the 


248  ALMAYEK'S    KOLLY. 

danger  was  past,  why  should  she  grieve?  He 
doubted  her  love  no  more  than  he  would  have 
doubted  the  fact  of  his  own  existence,  but  as  he 
lay  looking  ardently  in  her  face,  watching  her  tears, 
her  parted  lips,  her  very  breath,  he  was  uneasily 
conscious  of  something  in  her  he  could  not  under- 
stand. Doubtless  she  had  the  wisdom  of  perfect 
beings.  He  sighed.  He  felt  something  invisible 
that  stood  between  them,  something  that  would  let 
him  approach  her  so  far,  but  no  farther.  No  desire, 
no  longing,  no  effort  of  will  or  length  of  life  could 
destroy  this  vague  feeling  of  their  difference.  With 
awe  but  also  with  great  pride  he  concluded  that  it 
was  her  own  incomparable  perfection.  She  was 
his,  and  yet  she  was  like  a  woman  from  another 
world.  His !  His !  He  exulted  in  the  glorious 
thought ;  nevertheless  her  tears  pained  him. 

With  a  wisp  of  her  own  hair  which  he  took  in  his 
hand  with  timid  reverence  he  tried  in  an  access  of 
clumsy  tenderness  to  dry  the  tears  that  trembled  on 
her  eyelashes.  He  had  his  reward  in  a  fleeting  smile 
that  brightened  her  face  for  the  short  fraction  of  a 
second,  but  soon  the  tears  fell  faster  than  ever,  and 
he  could  bear  it  no  more.  He  rose  and  walked 
towards  Almayer,  who  still  sat  absorbed  in  his 
contemplation  of  the  sea.  It  was  a  very  very  long 
time  since  he  had  seen  the  sea  —  that  sea  that  leads 
everywhere,  brings   everything,    and  takes  away  so 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  249 

much.  He  had  ahnost  forgotten  why  he  was  there, 
and  dreamil}^  he  could  see  all  his  past  life  on  the 
smooth  and  boundless  surface  that  glittered  before 
his  eyes. 

Dain's  hand  laid  on  Almayer's  shoulder  recalled 
him  with  a  start  from  some  country  very  far  away 
indeed.  He  turned  round,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to 
look  rather  at  the  place  where  Dain  stood  than  at 
the  man  himself.  Dain  felt  uneasy  under  the 
unconscious  gaze. 

"  What  ?  "  said  Almayer. 

"  She  is  crying,"  murmured  Dain,  softly. 

"  She  is  crying  !  Why?  "  asked  Almayer,  indif- 
ferently. 

"  I  came  to  ask  you.  My  Ranee  smiles  when  look- 
ing at  the  man  she  loves.  It  is  the  white  woman 
that  is  crying  now.     You  would  know." 

Almayer  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  away 
again  towards  the  sea. 

"  Go,  Tuan  Putih,"  urged  Dain.  "  Go  to  her  ;  her 
tears  are  more  terrible  to  me  than  the  anger  of  gods." 

*"'  Are  they  ?  You  shall  see  them  more  than  once. 
She  told  me  she  could  not  live  without  you," 
answered  Almayer,  speaking  without  the  faintest 
spark  of  expression  in  his  face,  "so  it  behoves  you 
to  go  to  her  quick,  for  fear  you  may  find  her  dead." 

He  burst  into  a  loud  and  unpleasant  laugh  which 
made   Dain  stare  at  him   with    some  apprehension. 


250  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

but  got  off  the  gunwale  of  the  boat  and  moved 
slowly  towards  Nina,  glancing  up  at  the  sun  as  he 
walked. 

-  And  you  go  when  the  sun  is  overhead  ? "  he 
said. 

"Yes,  Tuan.     Then  we  go,"  answered  Dain. 

"I  have  not  long  to  wait,"  muttered  Almayer. 
"  It  is  most  important  for  me  to  see  you  go.  Both 
of  you.  Most  important,"  he  repeated,  stopping 
short  and  looking  at  Dain  fixedly. 

He  went  on  again  towards  Nina,  and  Dain  re- 
mained behind.  Almayer  approached  his  daughter 
and  stood  for  a  time  looking  down  on  her.  She  did 
not  open  her  eyes,  but  hearing  footsteps  near  her, 
murmured  in  a  low  sob,  "Dain." 

Almayer  hesitated  for  a  minute  and  then  sank  on 
the  sand  by  her  side.  She,  not  hearing  a  responsive 
word,  not  feeling  a  touch,  opened  her  eyes  —  saw  her 
father,  and  sat  up  suddenly  with  a  movement  of 
terror. 

"  Oh,  father !  "  she  murmured  faintly,  and  in  that 
word  there  was  expressed  regret  and  fear  and  dawn- 
ing hope. 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  you,  Nina,"  said  Almayer, 
in  a  dispassionate  voice.  "  You  have  torn  my  heart 
from  me  while  I  dreamt  of  your  happiness.  You 
have  deceived  me.  Your  eyes  that  for  me  were 
like   truth   itself   lied   to  me  in  every  glance  —  for 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  261 

how  long  ?  You  know  that  best.  When  you  were 
caressing  my  cheek  you  were  counting  the  hours  to 
the  sunset  that  was  the  signal  for  your  meeting  with 
that  man  —  there  I  " 

He  ceased,  and  they  both  sat  silent  side  by  side, 
not  looking  at  each  other,  but  gazing  at  the  vast 
expanse  of  the  sea.  Almayer's  words  had  dried 
Nina's  tears,  and  her  look  grew  hard  as  she  stared 
before  her  into  the  limitless  sheet  of  blue  that 
shone  limpid,  uuwaving,  and  steady  like  heaven 
itself.  He  looked  at  it  also,  but  his  features  had 
lost  all  expression,  and  life  in  his  eyes  seemed  to 
have  gone  out.  The  face  was  a  blank,  without  a 
sign  of  emotion,  feeling,  reason,  or  even  knowledge 
of  itself.  All  passion,  regret,  grief,  hope,  or  anger 
—  all  were  gone,  erased  by  the  hand  of  fate,  as  if 
after  this  last  stroke  life  was  over  and  there  was  no 
need  for  any  record.  Those  few  who  saw  Almayer 
during  the  short  period  of  his  remaining  days  were 
always  impressed  by  the  sight  of  that  face  that 
seemed  to  know  nothing  of  what  went  on  within, 
like  the  blank  wall  of  a  prison  enclosing  sin,  regrets, 
and  pain,  and  wasted  life,  in  the  cold  indifference  of 
mortar  and  stones. 

"  What  is  there  to  forgive  ? "  asked  Nina,  not 
addressing  Almayer  directly,  but  more  as  if  arguing 
with  herself.  "  Can  I  not  live  my  own  life  as  you 
have    lived    yours?      The    path    you    would    have 


252  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

wished  me  to  follow  has  been  closed  to  me  by  no 
fault  of  mine." 

"  You  never  told  me,"  muttered  Almayer. 

"  You  never  asked  me,"  she  answered,  "  and  I 
thought  you  were  like  the  others  and  did  not  care. 
I  bore  the  memory  of  my  humiliation  alone,  and 
Avhy  should  I  tell  you  that  it  came  to  me  because 
I  am  your  daughter?  I  knew  you  could  not  avenge 
me." 

"And  yet  I  was  thinking  of  that  only,"  inter- 
rupted Almayer,  "  and  I  wanted  to  give  you  years 
of  happiness  for  the  short  day  of  your  suffering. 
I  only  knew  of  one  way." 

"  Ah !  but  it  was  not  my  way ! "  she  replied. 
"'  Could  you  give  me  happiness  without  life  ? 
Life !  "  she  repeated  with  sudden  energy  that  sent 
the  word  ringing  over  the  sea.  "  Life  that  means 
power  and  love,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"That,"  said  Almayer,  pointing  his  finger  at 
Dain  standing  close  by  and  looking  at  them  in 
curious  wonder. 

"  Yes,  that !  "  she  replied,  looking  her  father  full 
in  the  face  and  noticing  for  the  first  time  with  a 
slight  gasp  of  fear  the  unnatural  rigidity  of  his 
features. 

"  I  would  have  rather  strangled  you  with  my 
own  hands,"  said  Almayer,  in  an  expressionless 
Toice  which  was  such  a  contrast  to  the   desperate 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  263 

bitterness  of  his  feelings  that  it  surprised  even 
himself.  He  asked  himself  who  spoke,  and,  after 
looking  slowly  round  as  if  expecting  to  see  some- 
body, turned  again  his  eyes  towards  the  sea. 

"  You  say  that  because  you  do  not  understand  the 
meaning  of  my  words,"  she  said  sadly.  "  Between 
you  and  my  mother  there  never  was  any  love. 
When  I  returned  to  Sambir  I  found  the  place 
which  I  thought  would  be  a  peaceful  refuge  for 
my  heart,  filled  with  weariness  and  hatred  —  and 
mutual  contempt.  I  have  listened  to  your  voice 
and  to  her  voice.  Then  I  saw  that  you  could  not 
understand  me  ;  for  was  not  I  part  of  that  woman  ? 
Of  her  who  was  the  regret  and  shame  of  your  life  '! 
I  had  to  choose  —  I  hesitated.  Why  were  you  so 
blind  ?  Did  you  not  see  me  struggling  before  your 
eyes  ?  Then,  when  he  came,  all  doubt  disappeared, 
and  I  saw  only  the  light  of  the  blue  and  cloudless 
heaven " 

"  I  will  tell  you  the  rest,"  interrupted  Almayer : 
"  when  that  man  came  I  also  saw  the  blue  and  the 
sunshine  of  the  sky.  A  thunderbolt  has  fallen 
from  that  sky,  and  suddenly  all  is  still  and  dai"k 
around  me  for  ever.  I  will  never  forgive  you, 
Nina;  and  to-morroAv  I  shall  forget  you!  I  shall 
never  forgive  you,"  he  repeated  with  mechanical 
obstinacy  while  she  sat,  her  head  bowed  down  as  if 
afraid  to  look  at  her  father. 


264  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

To  him  it  seemed  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
he  should  assure  her  of  his  intention  of  never 
forgiving.  He  was  convinced  that  his  faith  in  her 
had  been  the  foundation  of  his  hopes,  the  motive 
of  his  courage,  of  his  determination  to  live  and 
struggle,  and  to  be  victorious  for  her  sake.  And 
now  his  faith  was  gone,  destroyed  by  her  own 
hands;  destroyed  cruelly,  treacherously,  in  the 
dark ;  in  the  very  moment  of  success.  In  the 
utter  wreck  of  his  affections  and  of  all  his  feelings, 
in  the  chaotic  disorder  of  his  thoughts,  above  the 
confused  sensation  of  physical  pain  that  wrapped 
him  up  in  a  sting  as  of  a  whiplash  curling  round 
him  from  his  shoulders  down  to  his  feet,  only  one 
idea  remained  clear  and  definite  —  not  to  forgive 
her;  only  one  vivid  desire  —  to  forget  her.  And 
this  must  be  made  clear  to  her  —  and  to  himself  — 
by  frequent  repetition.  That  was  his  idea  of  his 
duty  to  himself  —  to  his  race  —  to  his  respectable 
connections ;  to  the  whole  universe  unsettled  and 
shaken  by  this  frightful  catastrophe  of  his  life. 
He  saw  it  clearly  and  believed  he  was  a  strong 
man.  He  had  always  prided  himself  upon  his  un- 
flinching firmness.  And  yet  he  was  afraid.  She 
had  been  all  in  all  to  him.  What  if  he  should  let 
the  memory  of  his  love  for  her  weaken  the  sense 
of  his  dignity  ?  She  was  a  remarkable  woman ; 
he  could  see  that ;   all  the  latent  greatness  of  his 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  255 

nature  —  in  which  he  honestly  believed  —  had  been 
transfused  into  that  slight,  girlish  figure.  Great 
things  could  be  done  !  What  if  he  should  suddenly 
take  her  to  his  heart,  forget  his  shame,  and  pain, 
and  anger,  and  —  follow  her  !  What  if  he  changed 
his  heart  if  not  his  skin  and  made  her  life  easier 
between  the  two  loves  that  would  guard  her  from 
any  mischance  !  His  heart  yearned  for  her.  What 
if  he  should  say  that  his  love  for  her  was  greater 
than  .  .   . 

"  I  will  never  forgive  you,  Nina !  "  he  shouted, 
leaping  up  suddenly  in  the  sudden  fear  of  his  dream. 

This  was  the  last  time  in  his  life  when  he  was 
heard  to  raise  his  voice.  Henceforth  he  spoke 
always  in  a  monotonous  whisper  like  an  instru- 
ment of  which  all  the  strings  but  one  are  broken 
in  a  last  ringing  clamour  under  a  heavy  blow. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  looked  at  him.  The  very 
violence  of  his  cry  soothed  her  in  an  intuitive  con- 
viction of  his  love,  and  she  hugged  to  her  breast  the 
lamentable  remnants  of  that  affection  with  the 
unscrupulous  greediness  of  women  who  cling  des- 
perately to  the  very  scraps  and  rags  of  love,  any 
kind  of  love,  as  a  thing  that  of  right  belongs  to  them 
and  is  the  very  breath  of  their  life.  She  put  both 
her  hands  on  Almayer's  shoulders,  and  looking  at 
him  half  tenderly,  half  playfully,  she  said  — 

"You  speak  so  because  you  love  me." 


256  ALM AVER'S   FOLLY. 

Almayer  shook  his  head. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  she  insisted  softly;  then  after  a 
short  pause  she  added,  "  and  you  will  never  forget 
me." 

Almayer  shivered  slightly.  She  could  not  have 
said  a  more  cruel  thing. 

"  Here  is  the  boat  coming  noAv,"  said  Dain,  his 
arm  outstretched  towards  a  black  speck  on  the  water 
between  the  coast  and  the  islet. 

They  all  looked  at  it  and  remained  standing  in 
silence  till  the  little  canoe  came  gently  on  the  beach 
and  a  man  landed  and  walked  towards  them.  He 
stopped  some  distance  off  and  hesitated. 

"  What  news?"  asked  Dain. 

"  We  have  had  orders  secx^etly  and  in  the  night  to 
take  off  from  this  islet  a  man  and  a  woman.  I  see 
the  woman.     Which  of  you  is  the  man  ?  " 

"  Come,  delight  of  my  eyes,"  said  Dain  to  Nina. 
''Now  we  go,  and  your  voice  shall  be  for  my  ears 
only.  You  have  spoken  your  last  words  to  the  Tuan 
Putih,  your  father.     Come." 

She  hesitated  for  a  while,  looking  at  Almayer,  who 
kept  his  eyes  steadily  on  the  sea,  then  she  touched  his 
forehead  in  a  lingering  kiss,  and  a  tear  —  one  of  her 
tears — fell  on  his  cheek  and  ran  down  his  immovable 
face. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  whispered,  and  remained  irreso- 
lute till  he  pushed  her  suddenly  into  Dain's  arms. 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  267 

"  If  you  have  any  pity  for  me,"  murmured  Al- 
mayer,  as  if  repeating  some  sentence  learned  by  heart, 
"take  that  woman  away." 

He  stood  very  straight,  his  shoulders  thrown  back, 
his  head  held  high,  and  looked  at  them  as  they  went 
down  the  beach  to  the  canoe,  walking  enlaced  in  each 
other's  arms.  He  looked  at  the  line  of  their  foot- 
steps marked  in  the  sand.  He  followed  their  figures 
moving  in  the  crude  blaze  of  the  vertical  sun,  in  that 
light  violent  and  vibrating,  like  a  triumphal  flourish 
of  brazen  trumpets.  He  looked  at  the  man's  brown 
shoulders,  at  the  red  sarong  round  his  waist ;  at  the 
tall,  slender,  dazzling  white  £gure  he  supported.  He 
looked  at  the  white  dress,  at  the  falling  masses  of  the 
long  black  hair.  He  looked  at  them  embarking,  and 
at  the  canoe  growing  smaller  in  the  distance,  with 
rage,  despair,  and  regret  in  his  heart,  and  on  his 
face  a  peace  as  that  of  a  carved  image  of  oblivion. 
Inwardly  he  felt  himself  torn  to  pieces,  but  Ali  — 
who  now  aroused  —  stood  close  to  his  master,  saw  on 
his  features  the  blank  expression  of  those  who  live  in 
that  hopeless  calm  which  sightless  eyes  only  can  give. 

The  canoe  disappeared,  and  Almayer  stood  motion- 
less with  his  eyes  fixed  on  its  wake.  Ali  from  under 
the  shade  of  his  hand  examined  the  coast  curiously. 
As  the  sun  declined,  the  Seabreeze  sprang  up  from 
the  northward  and  shivered  with  its  breath  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  water, 
s 


258  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"  Dapat !  "  exclaimed  Ali,  joyously.  "  Got  him, 
master !  Got  prau !  Not  there !  Look  more  Tanah 
Mirrah  side.  Aha !  That  way !  Master,  see  ?  Now 
plain.     See  ?  " 

Almayer  followed  All's  forefinger  with  his  eyes  for 
a  long  time  in  vain.  At  last  he  sighted  a  triangular 
patch  of  yellow  light  on  the  red  background  of  the 
cliffs  of  Tanjong  Mirrah.  It  was  the  sail  of  the 
prau  that  had  caught  the  sunlight  and  stood  out, 
distinct  with  its  gay  tint,  on  the  dark  red  of  the 
cape.  The  yellow  triangle  crept  slowly  from  cliff 
to  cliff,  till  it  cleared  the  last  point  of  land  and 
shone  brilliantly  for  a  fleeting  minute  on  the  blue 
of  the  open  sea.  Then  the  prau  bore  up  to  the 
southward :  the  light  went  out  of  the  sail,  and 
suddenly  the  vessel  itself  disappeared,  vanishing 
in  the  shadow  of  the  steep  headland  that  looked 
on,  patient  and  lonely,  watching  over  the  empty 
sea. 

Almayer  never  moved.  Round  the  little  islet  the 
air  was  full  of  the  talk  of  the  rippling  water.  The 
crested  wavelets  ran  up  the  beach  audaciously,  joy- 
ously, with  the  lightness  of  young  life,  and  died 
suddenly,  unresistingly,  and  graciously,  in  the  wide 
curves  of  transparent  foam  on  the  yellow  sand. 
Above,  the  white  clouds  sailed  rapidly  southwards 
as  if  intent  upon  overtaking  something.  Ali  seemed 
anxious. 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  269 

"  Master,"  he  said  timidly,  "  time  to  get  house 
now.     Long  way  off  to  pull.     All  ready,  sir." 

"  Wait,"  whispered  Almayer. 

Now  she  was  gone  his  business  was  to  forget,  and 
he  had  a  strange  notion  that  it  should  be  done 
systematically  and  in  order.  To  Ali's  great  dis- 
may he  fell  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and,  creeping 
along  the  sand,  erased  carefully  with  his  hand  all 
traces  of  Nina's  footsteps.  He  piled  up  small 
heaps  of  sand,  leaving  behind  him  a  line  of 
miniature  graves  right  down  to  the  water.  After 
burying  the  last  slight  imprint  of  Nina's  slipper 
he  stood  up,  and,  turning  his  face  towards  the  head- 
land where  he  had  last  seen  the  prau,  he  made  an 
effort  to  shout  out  loud  again  his  firm  resolve  to 
never  forgive.  Ali,  watching  him  uneasily,  saw 
only  his  lips  move,  but  heard  no  sound.  He 
brought  his  foot  down  with  a  stamp.  He  was  a 
firm  man  —  firm  as  a  rock.  Let  her  go.  He 
never  had  a  daughter.  He  would  forget.  He  was 
forgetting  already. 

Ali  approached  him  again,  insisting  on  immediate 
departure,  and  this  time  he  consented,  and  they 
went  together  towards  their  canoe,  Almayer  leading. 
For  all  his  firmness  he  looked  very  dejected  and 
feeble  as  he  di-agged  his  feet  slowly  thi'ough  the 
sand  on  the  beach;  and  by  his  side  —  invisible  to 
Ali  —  stalked  that  particular  fiend  whose  mission  it 


2G0  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

is  to  jog  the  memories  of  men,  lest  they  should 
forget  the  meaning  of  life.  He  whispered  into 
Almayer's  ear  a  childish  prattle  of  many  years  ago. 
Almayer,  his  head  bent  on  one  side,  seemed  to  listen 
to  his  invisible  companion,  but  his  face  was  like  the 
face  of  a  man  that  has  died  struck  from  behind  —  a 
face  from  which  all  feelings  and  all  expression  are 
suddenly  wiped  off  by  the  hand  of  unexpected  death. 

They  slept  on  the  river  that  night,  mooring  their 
canoe  under  the  bushes  and  lying  down  in  the 
bottom  side  by  side,  in  the  absolute  exhaustion  that 
kills  hunger,  thirst,  all  feeling  and  all  thought  in 
the  overpowering  desire  for  that  deep  sleep  which  is 
like  the  temporary  annihilation  of  the  tired  body. 
Next  day  they  started  again  and  fought  doggedly 
with  the  current  all  the  morning,  till  about  midday 
they  reached  the  settlement  and  made  fast  their  little 
craft  to  the  jetty  of  Lingard  and  Co.  Almayer 
walked  straight  to  the  house,  and  Ali  followed, 
paddles  on  shoulder,  thinking  that  he  would  like  to 
eat  something.  As  they  crossed  the  front  courtyard 
they  noticed  the  abandoned  look  of  the  place.  Ali 
looked  in  at  the  different  servants'  houses:  all  were 
empty.  In  the  back  courtyard  there  was  the  same 
absence  of  sound  and  life.  In  the  cooking  shed  the 
fire  was  out  and  the  black  embers  were  cold.  A 
tall,  lean  man  came  stealthily  out    of   the   banana 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  261 

plantation,  and  went  away  rapidly  across  the  open 
space,  looking  at  them  with  big,  frightened  eyes  over 
his  shoulder.  Some  vagabond  without  a  master; 
there  were  many  such  in  the  settlement,  and  they 
looked  upon  Almayer  as  their  patron.  They  prowled 
about  his  premises  and  picked  their  living  there, 
sure  that  nothing  worse  could  befall  them  than  a 
shower  of  curses  when  they  got  in  the  way  of  the 
white  man,  whom  they  trusted  and  liked,  and  called 
a  fool  amongst  themselves.  In  the  house,  which 
Almayer  entered  through  the  back  verandah,  the 
only  living  thing  that  met  his  eyes  was  his  small 
monkey,  which,  hungry  and  unnoticed  for  the  last 
two  days,  began  to  cry  and  complain  in  monkey 
language  as  soon  as  it  caught  sight  of  the  familiar 
face.  Almayer  soothed  it  with  a  few  words  and 
ordered  Ali  to  bring  in  some  bananas;  then  while 
Ali  was  gone  to  get  them  he  stood  in  the  doorway 
of  the  front  verandah  looking  at  the  chaos  of  over- 
turned furniture.  Finally  he  picked  up  the  table 
and  sat  on  it,  while  the  monkey  let  itself  down  from 
the  roof-stick  by  its  chain  and  perched  on  his  shoul- 
der. When  the  bananas  came  they  had  their  break- 
fast together;  both  hungry,  both  eating  greedily, 
and  showering  the  skins  round  them  recklessly,  in 
the  trusting  silence  of  perfect  friendship.  Ali  went 
away,  grumbling,  to  cook  some  rice  himself,  for  all 
the  women  about  the  house  had  disappeared ;  he  did 


262  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

not  know  where.  Almayer  did  not  seem  to  care, 
and,  after  he  finished  eating,  he  sat  on  the  table 
swinging  his  legs  and  staring  at  the  river,  as  if  lost 
in  thought. 

After  some  time  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  door 
of  a  room  on  the  right  of  the  verandah.  That  was 
the  office.  The  office  of  Lingard  and  Co.  He  very 
seldom  went  in  there.  There  was  no  business  now, 
and  he  did  not  want  an  office.  The  door  was  locked, 
and  he  stood  biting  his  lower  lip,  trjdng  to  think  of 
the  place  where  the  key  could  be.  Suddenly  he 
remembered:  in  the  women's  room  hung  upon  a 
nail.  He  went  over  to  the  doorway  where  the  red 
curtain  hung  down  in  motionless  folds,  and  hesitated 
for  a  moment  before  pushing  it  aside  with  his  shoul- 
der, as  if  breaking  down  some  solid  obstacle.  A 
great  square  of  sunshine  entering  through  the  win- 
dow lay  on  the  floor.  On  the  left  he  saw  Mrs. 
Almayer's  big  wooden  chest,  the  lid  thrown  back, 
empty;  near  it  the  brass  nails  of  Nina's  European 
trunk  shone  in  the  large  initials  N.  A.  on  the  cover. 
A  few  of  Nina's  dresses  hung  on  wooden  pegs, 
stiffened  in  a  look  of  offended  dignity  at  their  aban- 
donment. He  remembered  making  the  pegs  him- 
self and  noticed  that  they  were  very  good  pegs. 
Where  was  the  key?  He  looked  round  and  saw  it 
near  the  door  where  he  stood.  It  was  red  with  rust. 
He  felt  very  much  annoyed   at   that,  and   directly 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  263 

afterwards  wondered  at  his  own  feeling.  What  did 
it  matter  ?  There  soon  would  be  no  key  —  no  door 
—  nothing!  He  paused,  key  in  hand,  and  asked 
himself  whether  he  knew  well  what  he  was  about. 
He  went  out  again  on  the  verandah  and  stood  by  the 
table  thinking.  The  monkey  jumped  down,  and, 
snatching  at  a  banana  skin,  absorbed  itself  in  pick- 
ing it  to  shreds  industriously. 

"Forget!"  muttered  Almayer,  and  that  word 
started  before  him  a  sequence  of  events,  a  detailed 
programme  of  things  to  do.  He  knew  perfectly  well 
what  was  to  be  done  now.  First  this,  then  that,  and 
then  forgetfulness  would  come  easy.  Very  easy. 
He  had  a  fixed  idea  that  if  he  should  not  forget 
before  he  died  he  would  have  to  remember  to  all 
eternity.  Certain  things  had  to  be  taken  out  of  his 
life,  stamped  out  of  sight,  destroyed,  forgotten.  For 
a  long  time  he  stood  in  deep  thought,  lost  in  the 
alarming  possibilities  of  unconquerable  memory, 
with  the  fear  of  death  and  eternity  before  him. 
"  Eternity  !  "  he  said  aloud,  and  the  sound  of  that 
word  recalled  him  out  of  his  reverie.  The  monkey 
started,  dropped  the  skin,  and  grinned  up  at  him 
amicably. 

He  went  towards  the  office  door  and  with  some 
difficulty  managed  to  open  it.  He  entered  in  a 
cloud  of  dust  that  rose  under  his  feet.  Books  open, 
with  torn  pages,  bestrewed  the   floor;   other   books 


264  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

lay  about  grimy  and  black,  looking  as  if  they  had 
never  been  opened.  Account  books.  In  those 
books  he  had  intended  to  keep  day  by  day  a  record 
of  his  rising  fortunes.  Long  time  ago.  A  very 
long  time.  For  many  years  there  has  been  no 
record  to  keep  on  the  blue  and  red  ruled  pages!  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  the  big  office  desk,  with  one 
of  its  legs  broken,  careened  over  like  the  hull  of  a 
stranded  ship ;  most  of  the  drawers  had  fallen  out, 
disclosing  heaps  of  paper  yellow  with  age  and  dirt. 
The  revolving  office  chair  stood  in  its  place,  but  he 
found  the  pivot  set  fast  when  he  tried  to  turn  it. 
No  matter.  He  desisted,  and  his  eyes  wandered 
slowly  from  object  to  object.  All  those  things  had 
cost  a  lot  of  money  at  the  time.  The  desk,  the 
paper,  the  torn  books,  and  the  broken  shelves,  all 
under  a  thick  coat  of  dust.  The  very  dust  and 
bones  of  a  dead  and  gone  business.  He  looked  at 
all  these  things,  all  that  was  left  after  so  many  years 
of  work,  of  strife,  of  weariness,  of  discouragement, 
conquered  so  many  times.  And  all  for  what?  He 
stood  thinking  mournfully  of  his  past  life  till  he 
heard  suddenly  the  clear  voice  of  a  child  speaking 
amongst  all  this  wreck,  ruin,  and  waste.  He  started 
with  a  great  fear  in  his  heart,  and  feverishly  began 
to  rake  in  the  papers  scattered  on  the  floor,  broke 
the  chair  into  bits,  splintered  the  drawers  by 
banging   them  against  the   desk,   and  made  a  big 


ALM AVER'S   FOLLY.  265 

heap  of  all  that  rubbish  in  one  corner  of  the 
room. 

He  came  out  quickly,  slammed  the  door  after 
him,  turned  the  key,  and,  taking  it  out,  ran  to  the 
front  rail  of  the  verandah,  and,  with  a  great  swing 
of  his  arm,  sent  the  key  whizzing  into  the  river. 
This  done,  he  went  back  slowly  to  the  table,  called 
the  monkey  down,  unhooked  its  chain,  and  induced 
it  to  remain  quiet  in  the  breast  of  his  jacket.  Then 
he  sat  again  on  the  table  and  looked  fixedly  at  the 
door  of  the  room  he  had  just  left.  He  listened  also 
intently.  He  heard  a  dry  sound  of  rustling;  sharp 
cracks  as  of  dry  wood  snapping;  a  whirr  like  of  a 
bird's  wings  when  it  rises  suddenly,  and  then  he 
saw  a  thin  stream  of  smoke  come  through  the  key- 
hole. The  monkey  struggled  under  his  coat.  Ali 
appeared  with  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head. 

"Master!     House  burn!"  he  shouted. 

Almayer  stood  u[),  holding  by  the  table.  He 
could  hear  the  yells  of  alarm  and  surprise  in 
the  settlement.  Ali  wrung  his  hands,  lamenting 
aloud. 

"Stop  this  noise,  fool!"  said  Almayer,  quietly. 
"  Pick  up  my  hammock  and  blankets  and  take  them 
to  the  other  house.      Quick,  now!" 

The  smoke  burst  through  the  crevices  of  the  door, 
and  Ali,  with  the  hammock  in  his  arms,  cleared 
in  one  bound  the  steps  of  the  verandah. 


266  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"It  has  caught  well,"  muttered  Almayer  to  him- 
self. 

"Be  quiet,  Jack,"  he  added,  as  the  monkey  made 
a  frantic  effort  to  escape  from  its  confinement. 

The  door  split  from  top  to  bottom,  and  a  rush  of 
flame  and  smoke  drove  Almayer  away  from  the  table 
to  the  front  rail  of  the  verandah.  He  held  on  there 
till  a  great  roar  overhead  assured  him  that  the  roof 
was  ablaze.  Then  he  ran  down  the  steps  of  the 
verandah,  coughing,  half  choked  with  the  smoke  that 
pursued  him  in  bluish  wreaths  curling  about  his 
head. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  ditch,  separating  Al- 
mayer's  courtyard  from  the  settlement,  a  crowd  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Sambir  looked  at  the  burning 
house  of  the  white  man.  In  the  calm  air  the  flames 
rushed  up  on  high,  coloured  pale  brick-red,  with 
violent  gleams  in  the  strong  sunshine.  The  thin 
column  of  smoke  ascended  straight  and  unwaving 
till  it  lost  itself  in  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky,  and  in 
the  great  empty  space  between  the  two  houses  the 
interested  spectators  could  see  the  tall  figure  of  the 
Tuan  Putih,  with  bowed  head  and  dragging  feet, 
walking  slowly  away  from  the  fire  towards  the  shel- 
ter of  "Almayer's  Folly." 

In  that  manner  did  Almayer  move  into  his  new 
house.  He  took  possession  of  the  new  ruin,  and  in 
the  undying  folly  of  his  heart  set  himself  to  wait  in 


ALM AVER'S    FOLLY.  267 

anxiety  and  pain  for  that  forgetfulness  which  was  so 
slow  to  come.  He  had  done  all  he  could.  Every 
vestige  of  Nina's  existence  had  been  destroyed ;  and 
now  with  every  sunrise  he  asked  himself  whether 
the  longed-for  oblivion  would  come  before  sunset, 
whether  it  would  come  before  he  died  ?  He  wanted 
to  live  only  long  enough  to  be  able  to  forget,  and  the 
tenacity  of  his  memory  filled  him  with  dread  and 
horror  of  death;  for  should  it  come  before  he  could 
accomplish  the  purpose  of  his  life  he  would  have  to 
remember  for  ever !  He  also  longed  for  loneliness. 
He  wanted  to  be  alone.  But  he  was  not.  In  the 
dim  light  of  the  rooms  with  their  closed  shutters, 
in  the  bright  sunshine  of  the  verandah,  wherever  he 
went,  whichever  way  he  turned,  he  saw  the  small 
figure  of  a  little  maiden  with  pretty  olive  face,  with 
long  black  hair,  her  little  pink  robe  slipping  off  her 
shoulders,  her  big  eyes  looking  up  at  hira  in  the 
tender  trustfulness  of  a  petted  child.  Ali  did  not 
see  anything,  but  he  also  was  aware  of  the  presence 
of  a  child  in  the  house.  In  his  long  talks  by  the 
evening  fires  of  the  settlement  he  used  to  tell  his 
intimate  friends  of  Almayer's  strange  doings.  His 
master  had  turned  sorcerer  in  his  old  age.  Ali  said 
that  often  when  Tuan  Putih  had  retired  for  the 
night  he  could  hear  him  talking  to  something  in  his 
room.  Ali  thought  that  it  was  a  spirit  in  the  shape 
of  a  child.     He  knew  his  master  spoke  to  a  child. 


268  ALMAYER'S   FOLLV. 

from  certain  expressions  and  words  his  master  used 
His  master  spoke  in  Malay  a  little,  but  mostly  in 
English,  which  he,  Ali,  could  understand.  Master 
spoke  to  the  child  at  times  tenderly,  then  he  would 
weep  over  it,  laugh  at  it,  scold  it,  beg  of  it  to  go 
away :  curse  it.  It  was  a  bad  and  stubborn  spirit. 
Ali  thought  his  master  had  imprudently  called  it 
up,  and  now  could  not  get  rid  of  it.  His  master 
was  very  brave ;  he  was  not  afraid  to  curse  this 
spirit  in  the  very  Presence ;  and  once  he  fought  with 
it.  Ali,  he  heard  a  great  noise,  as  of  running  about 
inside  the  room,  and  groans.  His  master  groaned; 
spirits  do  not  groan.  His  master  was  brave,  but 
foolish.  You  cannot  hurt  a  spirit.  Ali  expected 
to  find  his  master  dead  next  morning,  but  he  came 
out  very  early,  looking  much  older  than  the  day 
before,  and  had  no  food  all  day. 

So  far  Ali  to  the  settlement.  To  Captain  Ford 
he  was  much  more  communicative,  for  the  good 
reason  that  Captain  Ford  had  the  purse  and  gave 
orders.  On  each  of  Ford's  monthly  visits  to  Sambir 
Ali  had  to  go  on  board  with  a  report  about  the 
inhabitant  of  "  Almayer's  Folly."  On  his  first  visit 
to  Sambir,  after  Nina's  departure.  Ford  had  taken 
charge  of  Almayer's  affairs.  They  were  not  cum- 
bersome. The  shed  for  the  storage  of  goods  was 
empty,  the  boats  had  disappeared,  appropriated  — 
generally   in   night-time  —  by   various    citizens    of 


ALMAYER'S    I'OI.I.V.  269 

Sambir  in  need  of  means  of  transport.  During  a 
great  flood  the  jetty  of  Lingard  and  Co.  left  the  bank 
and  floated  down  the  river,  probably  in  search  of 
more  cheerful  surroundings ;  even  the  flock  of  geese 
—  "the  only  geese  on  the  east  coast"  —  departed 
somewhere,  preferring  the  unknown  dangers  of  the 
bush  to  the  desolation  of  their  old  home.  As  time 
went  on  the  grass  grew  over  the  black  patch  of 
ground  where  the  old  house  used  to  stand,  and  noth- 
ing remained  to  mark  the  place  of  the  dwelling  that 
had  sheltered  Almayer's  young  hopes,  his  foolish 
dream  of  splendid  future,  his  awakening,  and  his 
despair. 

Ford  did  not  often  visit  Almayer,  for  visiting 
Almayer  was  not  a  pleasant  task.  At  first  he  used 
to  respond  listlessly  to  the  old  seaman's  boisterous 
inquiries  about  his  health ;  he  even  made  efforts  to 
talk,  asking  for  news  in  a  voice  that  made  it  per- 
fectly clear  that  no  news  from  this  world  had  any 
interest  for  him.  Then  gradually  he  became  more 
silent  —  not  sulkily  —  but  as  if  he  was  forgetting 
how  to  speak.  He  used  also  to  hide  in  the  darkest 
rooms  of  the  house,  where  Ford  had  to  seek  him  out. 
guided  by  the  patter  of  the  monkey  galloping  before 
him.  The  monkey  was  always  there  to  receive  and 
introduce  Ford.  The  little  animal  seemed  to  have 
taken  complete  charge  of  its  master,  and  whenever  it 
wished  for  his  presence  on  the  verandah   it  would 


270  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

tug  perseveringly  at  his  jacket,  till  Almayer  obedi- 
ently came  out  into  the  sunshine,  which  he  seemed 
to  dislike  so  much. 

One  morning  Ford  found  him  sitting  on  the  floor 
of  the  verandah,  his  back  against  the  wall,  his  legs 
stretched  stiffly  out,  his  arms  hanging  by  his  side. 
His  expressionless  face,  his  eyes  open  Avide,  with 
immobile  pupils,  and  the  rigidity  of  his  pose,  made 
him  look  like  an  immense  man-doll  broken  and  flung 
there  out  of  the  way.  As  Ford  came  up  the  steps 
he  turned  his  head  slowly. 

"Ford,"  he  murmured  from  the  floor,  "I  cannot 
forget." 

"Can't  you?"  said  Ford,  innocently,  with  an 
attempt  at  joviality :  "  I  wish  I  was  like  you.  I  am 
losing  my  memory  —  age,  I  suppose ;  only  the  other 
day  my  mate " 

He  stopped,  for  Almayer  had  got  up,  stumbled, 
and  steadied  himself  on  his  friend's  arm. 

"Hallo!  You  are  better  to-day.  Soon  be  all 
right,"  said  Ford,  cheerfully,  but  feeling  rather 
scared. 

Almayer  let  go  his  arm  and  stood  very  straight, 
with  his  head  up  and  shoulders  thrown  back,  looking 
stonily  at  the  multitude  of  suns  shining  in  ripples 
of  the  river.  His  jacket  and  his  loose  trousers 
flapped  in  the  breeze  on  his  thin  limbs. 

"Let  her  go!"  he  whispered  in  a  grating  voice. 


ALMAYER':,    ^'OLLY.  271 

"Let  her  go.  To-morrow  I  shall  forget.  I  am  a 
firm  man,  .   .   .  firm  as  a  .   .   .  rock,  .   .   .  firm  .   .   ." 

Ford  looked  at  his  face  —  and  fled.  The  skipper 
was  a  tolerably  firm  man  himself  —  as  those  who  had 
sailed  with  him  could  testify  —  but  Almayer's  firm- 
ness was  altogether  too  much  for  his  fortitude. 

Next  time  the  steamer  called  in  Sambir  Ali  came 
on  board  early  with  a  grievance.  He  complained 
to  Ford  that  Jim-Eng  the  Chinaman  had  invaded 
Almayer's  house,  and  actually  had  lived  there  for 
the  last  month. 

"And  they  both  smoke,"  added  Ali. 

"Phew!     Opium,  you  mean?" 

Ali  nodded,  and  Ford  remained  thoughtful ;  then 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "  Poor  devil !  The  sooner 
the  better  now."  In  the  afternoon  he  walked  up  to 
the  house. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked  of  Jim- 
Eng,  whom  he  found  strolling  about  on  the  verandah. 

Jim-Eng  explained  in  bad  Malay,  and  speaking  in 
that  monotonous,  uninterested  voice  of  an  opium 
smoker  pretty  far  gone,  that  his  house  was  old,  the 
roof  leaked,  and  the  floor  was  rotten.  So,  being  an 
old  friend  for  many,  many  years,  he  took  his  money, 
his  opium,  and  two  pipes,  and  came  to  live  in  this 
big  house. 

"There  is  plenty  of  room.  He  smokes,  and  I  live 
here.     He  will  not  smoke  long,"  he  concluded. 


272  ALMAYER'S   FOLLY. 

"Where  is  he  now?"     asked  Ford. 

"Inside.     He  sleeps,"  answered  Jim-Eng,  wearily. 

Ford  glanced  in  through  the  doorway.  In  ^he 
dim  light  of  the  room  he  could  see  Almayer  lying 
on  his  back  on  the  floor,  his  head  on  a  wooden 
pillow,  the  long  white  beard  scattered  over  his 
breast,  the  yellow  skin  of  the  face,  the  half-closed 
eyelids  showing  the  whites  of   the   eye  only.   .   .   . 

He  shuddered  and  turned  away.  As  he  was  leav- 
ing he  noticed  a  long  strip  of  faded  red  silk,  with 
some  Chinese  letters  on  it,  which  Jim-Eng  had  just 
fastened  to  one  of  the  pillars. 

"What's  that?"  he  asked. 

"That,"  said  Jim-Eng,  in  his  colourless  voice, 
"that  is  the  name  of  the  house.  All  the  same  like 
my  house.      Very  good  name." 

Ford  looked  at  him  for  a  while  and  went  away. 
He  did  not  know  what  the  crazy-looking  maze  of  the 
Chinese  inscription  on  the  red  silk  meant.  Had  he 
asked  Jim-Eng,  that  patient  Chinaman  would  have 
informed  him  with  proper  pride  that  its  meaning 
was:  "House  of  heavenly  delight." 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  Babalatchi  called 
on  Captain  Ford.  The  captain's  cabin  opened  on 
deck,  and  Babalatchi  sat  astride  on  the  high  step, 
while  Ford  smoked  his  pipe  on  the  settee  inside. 
The  steamer  was  leaving  next  morning,  and  the  old 
statesman  came  as  usual  for  a  last  chat. 


ALMAYER'S   FOLLY.  273 

"We  had  news  from  Bali  last  moon,"  remarked 
Babalatchi .  "  A  grandson  is  born  to  the  old  Rajah, 
and  there  is  great  rejoicing."  , 

Ford  sat  up  interested. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Babalatchi,  in  answer  to  Ford's 
look.  "I  told  him.  That  was  before  he  began  to 
smoke." 

"Well,  and  what?"  asked  Ford. 

"I  escaped  with  my  life,"  said  Babalatchi,  with 
perfect  gravity,  "because  the  white  man  is  very 
weak  and  fell  as  he  rushed  upon  me."  Then,  after 
a  pause,  he  added,  "She  is  mad  with  joy." 

"  Mrs.  Almayer,  you  mean  ?  " 

"Yes,  she  lives  in  our  Rajah's  house.  She  will 
not  die  soon.  Such  women  live  a  long  time,"  said 
Babalatchi,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  regret  in  his 
voice.  "She  has  dollars,  and  she  lias  buried  them, 
but  we  know  where.  We  had  much  trouble  with 
those  people.  We  had  to  pay  a  fine  and  listen  to 
threats  from  the  white  men,  and  now  we  have  to  be 
careful."  He  sighed  and  remained  silent  for  a  long 
while.     Then  with  energy: 

"There  will  be  fighting.  There  is  a  breath  of 
war  on  the  islands.  Shall  I  live  long  enough  to 
see?  .  .  .  Ah,  Tuan!"  he  went  on,  more  quietly, 
"the  old  times  were  best.  Even  I  have  sailed  witli 
Lanun  men,  and  boarded  in  the  night  silent  ships 
with  white  sails.     That  was  before  a  white  Rajah 


274  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

ruled  in  Kuching.  Then  we  fought  amongst  our- 
selves and  were  happy.  Now  when  we  jBght  with 
you  we  can  only  die ! " 

He  rose  to  go.  "Tuan,"  he  said,  "you  remember 
the  girl  that  man  Bulangi  had?  Her  that  caused 
all  the  trouble?" 

"  Yes, "  said  Ford.     "  What  of  her  ?  " 

"She  grew  thin  and  could  not  work.  Then  Bu- 
langi, who  is  a  thief  and  a  pig-eater,  gave  her  to  me 
for  fifty  dollars.  I  sent  her  amongst  my  women  to 
grow  fat.  I  wanted  to  hear  the  sound  of  her  laughter, 
but  she  must  have  been  bewitched,  and  .  ,  .  she 
died  two  days  ago.  Nay,  Tuan.  Why  do  you  speak 
bad  words?  I  am  old  —  that  is  true  —  but  why 
should  I  not  like  the  sight  of  a  young  face  and  the 
sound  of  a  young  voice  in  my  house  ?  "  He  paused, 
and  then  added  with  a  little  mournful  laugh,  "  I  am 
like  a  white  man,  talking  too  much  of  what  is  not 
men's  talk  when  they  speak  to  one  another." 

And  he  went  off  looking  very  sad. 

The  crowd  massed  in  a  semicircle  before  the  steps 
of  "Almayer's  Folly,"  swayed  silently  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  opened  out  before  the  group  of 
white-robed  and  turbaned  men  advancing  through 
the  grass  towards  the  house.  Abdulla  walked  first, 
supported  by  Reshid  and  followed  by  all  the  Arabs 
in  Sambir.     As  they  entered  the  lane  made  by  the 


ALMAYER'S    FOLLY.  275 

respectful  crowd  there  was  a  subdued  murmur  of 
voices,  where  the  word  "  Mati "  was  the  only  one  dis- 
tinctly audible.  Abdulla  stopped  and  looked  round 
slowly. 

"Is  he  dead?"   he  asked. 

"  May  you  live ! "  answered  the  crowd  in  one 
shout,  and  then  there  succeeded  a  breathless  silence. 

Abdulla  made  a  few  paces  forward  and  found  him- 
self for  the  last  time  face  to  face  with  his  old  enemy. 
Whatever  he  might  have  been  once  he  was  not  dan- 
gerous now,  lying  stiff  and  lifeless  in  the  tender 
light  of  the  early  day.  The  only  white  man  on  the 
east  coast  was  dead,  and  his  soul,  delivered  from 
the  trammels  of  his  earthly  folly,  stood  now  in  the 
presence  of  Infinite  Wisdom.  On  the  upturned  face 
there  was  that  serene  look  which  follows  the  sudden 
relief  from  anguish  and  pain,  and  it  testified  silently 
before  the  cloudless  heaven  that  the  man  lying  there 
under  the  gaze  of  indifferent  eyes  had  been  per- 
mitted to  forget  before  he  died. 

Abdulla  looked  down  sadly  at  this  infidel  he  had 
fought  so  long  and  had  bested  so  many  times.  Such 
was  the  reward  of  the  faithful !  Yet  in  the  Arab's 
old  heart  there  was  a  feeling  of  regret  for  that  thing 
gone  out  of  his  life.  He  was  leaving  fast  behind 
him  friendships  and  enmities,  successes  and  disap- 
pointments—  all  that  makes  up  a  life;  and  before 
him  was  only  the  end.     Prayer  would   till    u]>  the 


27G  ALMAYER'S    FOLLY. 

remainder  of  the  days  allotted  to  the  true  believer! 
He  took  in  his  hand  the  beads  that  hung  at  his 
waist. 

"I  found  him  here,  like  this,  in  the  morning," 
said  Ali,  in  a  low  and  awed  voice. 

Abdulla  glanced  coldly  once  more  at  the  serene 
face. 

"Let  us  go,"  he  said,  addressing  Reshid. 

And  as  they  passed  through  the  crowd  that  fell 
back  before  them,  the  beads  in  Abdulla's  hand 
clicked,  while  in  a  solemn  whisper  he  breathed  out 
piously  the  name  of  Allah!  The  Merciful!  The 
Compassionate ! 


THF   ENl*. 


THE    COUNTRY    LIFE    PRESS 
GARDEN    CITV,  N.  Y. 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  Dl  E  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


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